


Heart of a Hunter Act VI

by MuchAmused



Series: Heart of a Hunter Saga [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester - Freeform, Dean x Reader, Dean x doctor!Reader - Freeform, Doctor!Reader, F/M, Hurt and comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Whump, spn reader insert, spn series - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:34:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 23,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27809161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MuchAmused/pseuds/MuchAmused
Summary: Dean has always believed that Hunters don’t get to be kids, but your experience growing up with Hunters for parents was vastly different from his. You’re no stranger to impossible situations, but no amount of binging parenting books and babyproofing the bunker can prepare you for the challenges and sacrifices involved in raising a Winchester.Series Warnings:Character injuries / sickness - Take note that no one is excluded from this.Canon-typical violence and language.Lots of whump.Lots of caring for hurt characters.Smut (18+ Only. NSFW. You were warned.)Angst.Fluff.Medical talk. Is that even a warning
Relationships: Dean Winchester & You, Dean Winchester x Reader, Dean Winchester/You, Dean x doctor!Reader
Series: Heart of a Hunter Saga [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1209615
Comments: 99
Kudos: 47





	1. Chapter 1

You were slumped against the side of the bathtub, a sheen of sweat glistening on your skin as you willed your stomach to stop churning. **  
**

It was all the world-stopping nausea of a terrible hangover without any of the fun the night before.  
  
This was day three of your stomach promptly and aggressively expelling its contents every time you tried to eat or drink anything.  
  
You were holed up in the motel room while Sam and Dean worked the case, and Dean had called to check in an hour ago to see how you were feeling.  
  
“God, sweetheart,” he said after you explained to him that you’d been sick all morning. “This stomach bug is a sonofabitch. I’m starting to worry.”  
  
“I’ll be fine,” you told him.  
  
“Sam wants to know if you’re at least drinking that Gatorade he got ya.”  
  
You hesitated just long enough to blow your cover when you tried a “Yes?”  
  
“You’ve gotta keep something in you,” he admonished.  
  
“It’s not for lack of trying, believe me,” you told him. “It just comes right back up. Just like the soup I had delivered to the room for lunch.”  
  
You could almost see him furrowing his brow through the phone. “Dammit,” he said softly. “This case … I don’t know how long … we think we’re dealing with ghosts.”  
  
“Ghosts? As in more than one?” you asked.  
  
“Pair of ‘em. We’re trying to track down the remains, but no solid leads on those yet. I probably won’t be back until … ” He hesitated, trying to come up with a time frame for you.  
  
“Dean, it’s fine,” you assured him. “I’m just going to lay around and watch bad cable and have the bathroom all to myself. There’s not much you can do for me here anyway. It’s fine.”  
  
“I don’t like leaving you alone when you’re sick like this,” he grumbled.  
  
You smiled, knowing he’d hear it in your voice when you spoke again. “I’m a doctor. I’ve got this. You and Sam go salt and burn and I’ll see you when you’re done.”  
  
His sigh was audible through the phone. “Okay. Feel better, sweetheart. Get some rest.”  
  
You hung up the phone and stared at the half empty bottle of fruit punch flavored Gatorade on the nightstand. Just looking at it made your mouth water, and not in a good way.  
  
You figured the guys would easily be gone for the rest of the evening and probably most of the night, especially if they were going to be digging up multiple graves.  
  
You had watched TV for half an hour, and then used a short burst of energy to walk a few blocks to a little pharmacy and managed to make it back to the room before this last wave of nausea hit.

  
Now you sat on the bathroom floor, chewing your lip and looking up at the little plastic grocery bag sitting on the sink. It was time to admit to yourself that your condition was less and less likely the result of food poisoning or the flu. You’d have been feeling better by now, and you knew it.  
  
You got up on your knees and pulled the bag down to the floor, reaching inside with one shaky hand to pull out a pregnancy test.

Head in your hands, you sat on the motel bed as you waited for the timer on your phone to beep. The more you asked yourself to consider the possibility, the more likely it seemed.  
  
You knew exactly when your last period had been.  
  
You’d eaten half a carton of ice cream while watching Netflix with Dean, and it wasn’t until he teased you about it that you’d explained you were hormonal and the only cure for it was the ice cream you were scarfing. And since you were a doctor he really shouldn’t be questioning your judgement. He’d laughed out loud at that, stealing the next bite right off your spoon and earning a playful smack on the shoulder.  
  
But the real reason you remembered it so vividly was because Sam had found a case the next day that sounded like it could be a nest of vampires draining people in a small town in Georgia.  
  
You had tagged along, but when the time had come to approach the nest, you’d suggested to Dean that you should probably sit it out and wait behind at the motel. You remembered the exact way in which his face had changed at hearing your declaration.  
  
“Shit,” he’d said softly, rubbing his face with his hand. “I’m an ass. I didn’t even think about the fact that your parents-”  
  
You’d realized he thought you were avoiding a run-in with the vamps because your parents had been killed by vampires. You’d killed vamps with him and Sam before, but apparently he was suddenly questioning your willingness to face them.  
  
“Dean,” you’d interrupted him. “It’s not that.”  
  
He’d just blinked at you, totally perplexed, shifting his weight as he watched you. “Okaayyy….”  
  
“It’s just that, uh, I don’t want to botch the whole thing because I’m particularly appetizing….” But your words had left him more confused. “My period, Dean,” you’d finally blurted out. “I’m on my period. They’ll know I’m coming from a mile away.”  
  
Dean’s eyes had widened briefly, and then the corner of his mouth hitched up in just the smallest hint of a smile. “Well, we can’t have you being shark bait, now, can we,” he’d said, taking a step toward you.  
  
You’d sighed, shrugging. “Don’t tempt me,” you had said to him as his hands fell to your waist. “I love to kill vampires as much as the next girl, but-”  
  
“Don’t kid yourself, sweetheart. There aren’t even other girls in your league.” Dean had bumped your nose lightly with his own before cocking his head to brush his lips over yours.  
  
“Be careful,” you’d told him and Sam as they’d climbed in Baby.  
  
“Always am. Eat some ice cream for me, Sharkbait,” Dean had teased, earning an eye roll and a finger, at which Sam had laughed loud enough you could hear him before Baby’s engine purred to life.  
  
You’d missed out on the nest of vampires, but you’d been there to stitch Dean up when he’d come back to the room with a cut that had been the result of an unfortunate encounter with a barbed wire fence during the fight.  
  
And you hadn’t had your period since. That had been about seven weeks ago….  
  
You knew the results of the first test before your phone beeped … before you walked back into the bathroom and picked it up to find two tiny little blue lines there.

  


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	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

You woke up to the sound of Baby’s engine purring outside the motel room door. A glance at the clock on the nightstand told you it was four in the morning. Dean unlocked the door and quietly stepped inside the room, Sam close behind him.  
  
“You made it,” you said, your voice rough with sleep. You didn’t sit up in bed for fear of setting off the nausea again.   
  
“Sorry,” Sam said. “Tried not to wake you.”  
  
“Just glad you’re back. Is anyone bleeding?”  
  
Dean leaned down, running a hand over your hair and kissing the top of your head. “Nothing that requires stitches.”  
  
“Hmmm. Good.”  
  
Sam headed for the bathroom to shower first and Dean sat on the edge of the bed, watching you in the dark.  
  
“Still throwing up?” he asked.

You sighed. You needed to tell him, but you hadn’t wrapped your head around how to break the news yet. Hell, you hadn’t really processed the news yourself, and somehow sitting in a junk motel room in the middle of the night when he smelled like gasoline from a salt and burn didn’t seem like the right time. “It comes and goes." 

"I’m sorry, sweetheart. Can I get you anything?” he asked.  
  
“I’m okay right now. Just glad you’re back.”  
  
“Try to go back to sleep,” he encouraged. “I’ll be to bed soon.” He pulled the blanket up close around you protectively and got to his feet.  
  
You closed your eyes, hearing the quiet sounds of him setting his pistol down on the nightstand and taking his boots and belt off.  
  
You drifted in and out for a while, mildly aware of the fact that Sam had gone to sleep in the other bed and the shower was running again. You woke up again when the mattress shifted with Dean’s weight next to you. You rolled over to face him, snuggling up to his chest. The clean scent of soap on his skin filled your senses and his arm draped lazily over your hip. You fell back to sleep to the soft and steady sound of his breathing.  
  
It was only a few hours later that you were fighting back nausea solely by your sheer will and the fact that you were lying completely still in bed. You lost the battle in the end and hurried into the bathroom, unable to answer when Dean called out your name with worry.  
  
When you finished throwing up, you splashed cold water on your face and brushed your teeth before opening the door. Dean was waiting there, leaning with his hand on the doorframe.  
  
You forced a smile for him, which he didn’t return. He did pull you into a gentle hug, resting his chin on the top of your head. “I don’t know if you’re up to traveling today. Should we stay?”  
  
“I just want to get home,” you groaned into his shirt.  
  
He smoothed your hair with his hand and said, “Let’s get you home, then.”  
  
Sam and Dean loaded up the car while you lounged in the backseat. You had Dean’s jacket balled up next to you for a pillow so you could lay down. Since you had been keeping the first aid kit fully stocked, you also had a few vomit bags with you as well, just in case you didn’t have enough warning for Dean to pull the car over. 

It was a long day driving back to the bunker, but you only threw up once, so you tried to tell yourself that it could have been worse as Dean walked inside with you, his hand on the small of your back. You were pretty sure he didn’t trust you to not fall over, and he didn’t take his eyes off you until he had you settled on the couch with a blanket, pillow, some Gatorade and crackers.  
  
You turned on the TV and put a scary movie on. Sam teased you about it when he joined you half an hour later, lifting up your blanket-covered feet long enough to sit before he set them back down on his lap.  
  
“Not enough scary in our lives?” he said with a grin.

“It’s the only thing interesting enough to distract me from my stomach,” you answered.

“Comfort blood and guts,” Sam said, amused. “You can take the Doc out of the ER, but you can’t take the ER out of the Doc,” he added.  
  
“Lucky for you,” you replied, making him laugh. Dean walked in a few minutes later with a mug full of warm broth for you. You sat up, graciously accepting the cup from him. “Smells good,” you told him as he sat next to you.

“Good. Maybe you’ll keep some of it down.”

You took a tentative sip, testing the flavor out on your tongue. You waited a few minutes before trying another sip, but slowly over the course of the movie you were able to drink all of it, with Dean taking it into the kitchen to warm it again halfway through.  
  
“Thank God,” Dean said as you handed him the empty mug while the end credits rolled. “I was beginning to think I might have to start an IV on you to get you some fluids and keep you hydrated.”

You smiled slowly. “I’d be lying if I said I haven’t had that thought several times today myself.”

“Well, disaster averted for now,” Sam said. “Maybe you’re on the mend.”

“Maybe,” you agreed. If only it were that simple. And you made up your mind right then to tell Dean tomorrow.

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	3. Chapter 3

Dean was happy to oblige when you asked him to get you out of the bunker for some fresh air the next night. He pulled over near a cornfield outside of town, and you were both leaning against the hood of the car, listening to music through the rolled down windows as the evening breeze played in your hair.

You’d brought along a couple of cans of ginger ale for good measure, and in a show of solidarity Dean was sipping one along with you.

You hadn’t felt a whole lot different today than yesterday, but somehow knowing the cause of your nausea made it more tolerable. Or maybe just knowing it wasn’t going away in the next few days gave you some long-term perspective.  
  
Dean watched you as you gazed at the stars. He came around to stand in front of you, gently lifting your jaw with a finger, forcing you to meet his eyes.  
  
“You’re doing that thing where you seem a thousand miles away,” he said softly. “Are you going to tell me what’s on your mind, or do I have to drag it out of you?”

You bit your bottom lip, brushing your hair out of your face. It didn’t matter that you’d spent all day trying to figure out the best way to break the news to him. Despite the fact that Dean Winchester was nearly impossible to shock or scare after everything he’d been through, you knew you were about to rock his entire world.

“I don’t have food poisoning,” you said slowly, looking up at him.

At first his expression hinted at his confusion, then his face hardened with worry and he gripped your hand in his. 

“Are you _sick_ sick?” he asked. “Sweetheart, if something’s wrong you gotta tell me so I can figure out how to help-”  
  
“I’m not - it’s not like that, exactly.” You took a breath and squeezed his hand back. “What I’ve been feeling - all the nausea - it’s actually morning sickness.”

Dean’s words caught in his throat, along with his next breath. His eyes grew wide, a wave of emotions playing out on his face ranging from shock, to disbelief, to something like panic, and back to shock again. His green eyes were fixed on yours, so intense you had to resist the urge to look away. 

“Sweetheart, are you - are you saying you’re … ”  
  
“Pregnant,” you finished for him when he couldn’t find the word.

Dean’s chest heaved with a breath and he swallowed hard, still unable to speak.

“Honey, listen to me,” you told him. “I know it isn’t something we planned, and it’s a lot to take in, but this is real…. Dean, you’re going to be a daddy.”

Dean nearly choked on a laugh as it bubbled up out of him. “Oh my God,” he gasped, and there was no denying the exhilaration in his face as his strong arms came around you, pulling you up against his chest.

Your knees went weak as relief coursed through you, and you were instantly grateful Dean had hold of you. Fingers clutching the soft flannel of his over shirt, you took a deep breath and enjoyed the calming scent of him as he hugged you, feeling like it was the first time you’d filled your lungs in days.  
  
“A baby….” Dean said softly in your ear, his voice just above a whisper. You nodded against his shoulder, tightness in your throat restricting your words. He pulled back long enough to study your face again. Even in the moonlight the tears glinting in his eyes were unmistakable. But you also saw love and wonder.

"We’re having a baby…. I can’t believe it,“ he added. A soft laugh escaped your lips as a happy tear cut a trail down your cheek. Dean brushed it away with his thumb before wiping at his own face. "God, I didn’t - I never thought … ”  
  
“I know.” You beamed up at him. "I can’t believe it either.”

He gently lifted your chin and pressed his lips to yours in a tender kiss. Then Dean’s arms were around your shoulders again, cradling your head to his chest protectively. “You hear that? My heart’s about to burst out of my chest,” he stated with a laugh.

You laughed along with him, feeling the force of his heartbeat against your cheek. “Don’t you go having a heart attack on me, Winchester,” you teased. “I’m not raising this baby by myself. ”  
  
Then he released you, immediately falling to his knees in the dirt. His hands came to rest on your hips and he used his thumbs to hitch up your shirt. He pressed a tender kiss to your flat tummy, his lips lingering there.  
  
You giggled, your fingers moving to his hair. When he raised his head to look up at you again, the smile plastered on his handsome face reached all the way to his eyes. 

“Holy shit, we’re going to be parents." Dean’s hand flew to his mouth, like he’d just realized he shouldn’t be cussing in front of the baby.  
  
You laughed out loud and yanked on his sleeve, urging him to stand back up. He cupped your cheek and said, "Sweetheart, I love you and this baby more than any one man should be able to love. You know that, right?”  
  
You leaned up on your toes and kissed the tip of his nose. “I love you, too, Winchester." 

He leaned his forehead against yours, and you closed your eyes briefly, your imagination running wild with thoughts about what your days would look like with a baby in the picture.

You opened your eyes again to look up at him. “Are you scared?” you asked him.

He smiled as he answered. “Terrified.”

You laughed at that. “Me too,” you added, giving voice to the very real trepidation that accompanied the feeling of elation flooding through you. 

Dean turned to look up at the sky. “Puts things into perspective, doesn’t it? This may actually be the scariest thing I’ve ever faced,” he admitted. His eyes met yours again. “But I can say with just as much certainty that I’ve never been this excited, either.” 

Dean gently lifted your chin with a hand, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips that made your stomach flip in a good way.

“And to think I was nervous about telling you tonight,” you said softly.  
  
His eyes narrowed at that, brow furrowing.. "You were?”  
  
You nodded, watching something like regret in the green of his eyes. “Not because of anything you did,” you added quickly. “It’s just that having a baby is a big deal, and our lives aren’t very conducive to raising kids. I just … I didn’t know how you would feel about all this. I was sort of expecting you to freak out.”

Dean’s hands went to your waist and he gently lifted you, setting you down on Baby’s hood. He moved closer, standing between your knees to look you in the eye. “We’re a team,” he said. “A damn good team. We may be figuring this parenting thing out as we go, but we’ll make it work.”

“I don’t know what I was so nervous about,” you told him. “You’ve always been good under pressure. I just … I sat on this just long enough while I tried to figure out the right time to tell you that I imagined a dozen scenarios in my head about how this conversation might go.” 

Dean nodded. He could understand that.

“But your reaction surpassed my best-case-scenario, by far.” You smiled at him, feeling your heart swell with gratitude and love. “Just when I thought I couldn’t love you any more than I already do, you go and do something like that.” 

Dean brushed a strand of your hair aside, tucking it behind your ear. “It feels a bit like a dream, doesn’t it?”

You nodded. “It’s going to be a wild ride, Winchester.”

“Hey, I can’t imagine taking it with anyone else.” Dean pressed his lips to yours in a passionate kiss that reaffirmed the commitment and unity between you. That made you feel like you could literally do anything as long as Dean was by your side.

The two of you sipped on ginger ale and watched the stars together for almost half an hour, basking in the joy of your future from the hood of the ‘67 Impala. 

"Want to head back so we can tell Sam?” you asked at last, knowing Dean was bursting at the seams to share the news with his brother.  
  
“Yeah, let’s do that. Time to get you two home,” Dean agreed, making you grin at his inclusion of the baby in his declaration. He led you to the passenger door, which he held open as you slid inside. You rode on the middle of the bench seat, your head on his shoulder as he drove home.  
  


  


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	4. Chapter 4

Sam was in the war room when you and Dean descended the stairs from the crow’s nest. He must have known by the looks on your faces that something was up. **  
**

“I don’t normally ask this when you two have been out alone, but what’s going on?” Sam said, raising an eyebrow and looking like he already regretted asking.

“We, uh, we have something we need to talk to you about,” you said.

“Sure.” Sam closed his laptop to give you his full attention. He sensed you both hesitating and added, “Wait, is something wrong?” He looked from you to Dean and back.

“Actually, Sammy, everything is right,” Dean began as you gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. 

“We’re having a baby!” he announced, the corner of his mouth tugging up in a lopsided grin.

Sam’s mouth dropped open in surprise as he got to his feet, making you laugh with delight. Dean was beaming with pride, and you were certain that alone made Sam not question whether or not you were pulling his leg. 

“Oh my God,” Sam said once he found his voice. “I - I can’t believe it. That’s amazing. Congratulations!” He instinctively pulled you both in for a group hug.

You were beyond lucky to have Dean and Sam in your life, and moments like this brought that into sharp focus as you felt the sting of tears in your eyes. Sam released you, saw your tears, and pulled you back in to hug you again, wrapping you up in those long arms of his. 

“I’m okay,” you assured him, laughing and crying into his shirt all at once. “It’s just the hormones." 

You wiped at your eyes when he released you again, but the tears just kept coming, especially as you watched Sam throwing his arms around Dean in a big bear hug that was full of everything Sam didn’t have to say out loud to his older brother.

Dean’s eyes were wet by the time he pulled back, and he wiped at his face with his hand. He was still grinning as his arm came around the small of your back and he took a deep breath, trying to compose himself.  
  
"No wonder you’ve been so sick,” Sam said to you. “I was beginning to think I’d poisoned you after I recommended the chicken sandwich at that little diner.”

“Not this time,” you said with a smile as you sat on the edge of the table. Dean sat in the chair closest to you, resting his hand on your thigh. 

Sam was still processing the news. “God, I can’t believe you’re going to be a dad,” he said to Dean, smiling and shaking his head.

Dean let out a disbelieving chuckle himself. “I know, right? Who’d have thought?”

“You’ll make a great father,” you told Dean, leaning over for a quick kiss. Then you glanced up at Sam and added, “You know this means you’re going to be an uncle.” 

You might not have believed Sam’s smile could get any wider if you hadn’t witnessed it yourself, but the grin on his face nearly split it in two. Dean was wiping at his eyes again, but his expression was full of sincerity and pride.

“This wasn’t exactly something we planned,” you said. “But I think we can all agree the world could use another Winchester.”

“Amen to that,” Sam said, reaching out to squeeze your hand in a sweet, supportive gesture. “Speaking of planning,” Sam began. “How far along are you?”

Dean’s head snapped up to watch you intently, his face betraying exactly what you knew he was thinking. He’d been so caught up in the news that he hadn’t even thought to ask you that himself yet.

“About seven weeks,” you answered. “Give or take.”

Dean’s expression shifted to show his surprise at your estimation, his hand squeezing your thigh where it rested there. “Almost two months already?”

You nodded. “Just shy of that.”

“But - but you don’t …. ” You could tell he was trying to choose his words carefully now. “You don’t even look like-”

“A beached whale?” you added, raising an eyebrow.

Dean’s face screwed up in denial. “What? No…. No. I was going to say something much less insulting than that, I swear.”

You laughed softly, gazing down at your flat stomach, and putting a hand there reflexively. “If I’m lucky it’ll be another couple of months before I’ve got a baby bump.”

“Baby bump,” Dean said, gesturing dramatically with a hand. “That’s what I was going for.”

“Sure you were,” Sam said sarcastically, making you laugh softly

“While we’re on the topic,” you said, glancing at them both. “I think it’s safe to say I’m down for the count as far as actual hunting goes. I would never want to do anything to put the baby in jeopardy.” Dean nodded, squeezing your thigh again in support. You’d expected him to be one-hundred-percent on board with that plan. “I may still want to ride along when I’m feeling up to it,“ you added. "But it’ll be strictly research and playing FBI.”

“Of course,” Sam said, Dean nodding along with him in agreement.

“Life is going to be drastically different with a baby around,” you told them both.

“Only in the best ways,” Dean said, green eyes staring into yours.

Sam shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. Just another short person in the bunker. Not so different, really.”

You couldn’t help but grin at his smart ass remark, making him chuckle lightly.

Before too long Dean was ushering you to the room you shared and tucking you into bed, slipping underneath the sheets next to you. 

You rolled onto your side, gazing into his green eyes. “Hey there, Winchester,” you said softly.  
  
“Hey, Doc.” He smiled at you, running a hand over your hair. “How do you feel?”

“I’m okay right now. Thank you.“

“C'mere.” Dean slid closer to you and you shifted to lay on his chest. “I still hate that you’re so sick,” he added, sliding his hand up and down your back in soothing motions. “I’d take on this morning sickness for you, if I could.”

“No offense, honey. Not sure you could handle it.” 

Dean’s chest rumbled with a laugh and you reveled in the sound. “Promise you’ll let me take care of you,” he added after a moment. “I want to do everything I can to keep you both happy and healthy.”

“Mmm…. You’re going to be such a great dad.”

Dean kissed the top of your head and took a deep breath. "Sweetheart, if I do anything right by this kid, it will all be because of you.”  
  
Dean continued to rub your back until he knew you were fast asleep on him. He wasn’t going to be drifting off anytime soon. His heart was still beating a little harder - a little faster - than normal. He was surprised you’d been able to fall asleep to it at all.  
  
He lay there for a long while, musing about how a Kitsune breaking his collarbone and giving him a concussion had eventually led to him having a family with the most brilliant, beautiful, badass woman he’d ever met. Every time he looked at you he was reminded of the good in the world. And now he’d have one more reason to keep fighting. 

Please consider supporting my writing by [buying me a coffee.](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fko-fi.com%2Fmuchamused&t=NmY4YmE2MGQ2MmQ5ZTc1NTFjY2ZhMDUwOGY4ZjYwYjFiNWRlMjBmOSxyeFk2cWRuWQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AQo5-YbXswGWjbyLDWCWv2A&p=https%3A%2F%2Fmuchamusedaboutnothing.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F623440180610826240%2Fheart-of-a-hunter-act-v-ch-29&m=1&ts=1599863773) In my case, it’s Dr. Pepper, but a little caffeine goes a long way when it comes to writing and posting this labor of love.


	5. Chapter 5

You thought you were doing better the next day. A shower first thing made you feel half human, and you were in the kitchen making some decaf and toast when Dean walked in from the garage. You’d made him a cup of regular coffee, black, just like he liked it, and he beamed at you when you handed it to him. **  
**

  
“You seem a little better,” he chanced as you poured your decaf in a cup and took a sip.  
  
“Don’t jinx it, Winchester,” you told him, smiling.  
  
Dean took a drink from his cup and then set it down on the counter long enough to give you a chaste kiss and boop your nose with his finger. “Do me a favor and take it easy today.”  
  
“Not going to be a problem,” you assured him. “I don’t have much in me yet.”

“Do you feel like having a real breakfast?” he asked. “I could cook something up.”  
  
You considered him a moment but shook your head. “Better not push it.” You held up your coffee mug and took a sip.  
  
“Probably a good idea,” Dean agreed.  
  
“What are your plans today?”  
  
“Gotta do some reloading and carve sigils into the slugs. Maybe load some salt shot. I think we used up most of what we had on the last salt and burn.” He raised an eyebrow at you. “Care to join me? You are faster and better at carving sigils than me. You know, steady doctor hands and all.”  
  
You smirked at him. “Are we pretending you’re not good with your hands now?”

His green eyes met yours and he sighed in a way that made it seem like the air was somehow melting out of his lungs. You knew Dean Winchester well enough to predict by the heat emanating from him that his voice was going to be lower when he next spoke. “Never mind,” he said, deadpan. “You’re not invited. I won’t get a damn thing done with you talking like that.”

You grinned and followed him down the hall, cup of coffee in hand. Twenty minutes later you were sitting on a stool next to him at the reloading bench, carving sigils with a small knife on the ends of slugs while Dean primed the brass cartridges, measured out gunpowder, and seated the bullets. 

“Are you hoping for a boy or a girl?” you asked Dean, curious to see what his answer would be.

He glanced at you, a small smile playing on his face. “Honestly, I’ll be happy either way.

“I can see myself with a son, teaching him how to change Baby’s oil, how to play catch." 

Dean cocked his head slightly and added, "But then I think about having a little girl running around, and how she’d probably look just like you. I’d be completely powerless, for sure. Probably let her get away with anything and everything.”

You were grinning and biting your bottom lip as you listened to Dean talk about the possibilities, wondering how he managed to do it. How he could do and say things like this that just made you love him more and more all the time. 

As you listened you took a particularly big gulp of your coffee, which you instantly regretted. You froze, knife in one hand, cup in the other, just long enough for Dean to look up at you in confusion. Then you sat both down quickly on the table in front of you and darted for the nearest bathroom.  
  
Dean realized all too quickly what was happening. He immediately rose from the stool he was sitting on and headed down the hall, pausing outside the bathroom door. 

His heart sank as he waited, grateful when you emerged from the bathroom just a few minutes later.  
  
“Did I jinx you this morning?” he asked as he reached for your hand.  
  
“Maybe.” You forced a smile and he pulled you close, holding your head gently against his chest. “Who was I kidding thinking today was going to be any different?” you said, trying not to sound too dramatic and failing.  
  
For an instant your knees went weak, threatening to buckle, and you gripped Dean’s t-shirt instinctively, catching again, grateful that his arms were around you, holding you steady.  
  
“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” Dean said, voice low and comforting despite the slight panic he felt. “Let’s get you back to bed.” He bent low and scooped you up into his arms, and you rested your head against his chest while he carried you to the room you shared. 

Dean gently set you on the bed, pulling the pillow over to help you get comfy. He sat on the edge, lightly stroking your back. “I’d give anything if I could do something to help you,” he said to you. 

“You are helping,” you told him as you closed your eyes.

He sighed. “Carrying you when you’re too weak to walk isn’t enough. There has to be something. Maybe I should call a doctor.”  
  
You felt a smaller wave of nausea coming on and tried not to move for fear that your stomach would insist on another round. “I _am_ a doctor, or have you forgotten?”  
  
“God no,” Dean said, smiling. “But even doctors need help sometimes.”  
  
“It’s just morning sickness,” you assured him. “That’s why it’s bad again. Mornings are the worst, but it’ll pass eventually.”

“They don’t have medicine for that or something?”

“They do. But it’s really best to make dietary changes and try to avoid letting your stomach be empty or full, which means grazing all day.”  
  
Dean didn’t like it one bit. He felt totally useless, and he hated seeing you so miserable. He stayed with you until you drifted off to sleep, hearing your breathing even out. He slipped out of the room and grabbed his laptop, holing up in the library. Sam found him there a while later.

"How is she?” Sam asked, glancing in the direction of the room you and Dean shared.  
  
Dean furrowed his brow at his brother and said, “I dunno, man. This morning sickness is a son of a bitch.”  
  
Sam came around to gaze at Dean’s laptop screen, finding the morning sickness remedies Dean had been researching.  
  
“You know what the worst part is?” Dean added. “This could last until she’s sixteen weeks, maybe twenty weeks along. No way to really know.” He sighed. “I do know she’s going to have to start keeping food down or she’s going to get weaker and weaker.” He added ginger ale and crackers to the list he was making on a notepad.  
  
“Here.” Sam held out his hand for the list. “I’ll go get this stuff so you can stay with her.”  
  
“Thanks.” Dean handed Sam the piece of paper.  
  
“Of course. I’ll be back soon. Call if you think of anything else.”

You woke up just before Sam returned, insisting that you needed to get out of bed for a while. Dean helped you get comfortable on the couch, bringing you a blanket and the remote so you could pick something to watch.  
  
Dean helped Sam put the groceries away and then brought you in a tray.  
  
“What’s all this?” you asked as he sat next to you.  
  
“Stuff to combat morning sickness,” Dean said. Upon closer inspection you saw toast, a can of Canada Dry ginger ale, some crackers, and Peppermint candies. “I figured we’d start slow.” He set the tray before you and popped the tab on the ginger ale open, holding it out for you to try. You took a sip, praying it wouldn’t result in another sprint to the bathroom. “Yeah?” Dean asked, watching you for a response.  
  
You nodded slowly. “That actually tastes amazing.”  
  
“That’s a relief,” Dean said, grinning.  
  
You were nibbling on a piece of toast when Sam walked in and tossed Dean a bottle of pills. 

“Prenatal vitamins,” Sam said with a shrug. “Figured it was a good idea." 

"Thanks,” you said. “Both of you. I’ve never been so spoiled.”  
  
You managed to slowly eat two pieces of toast and a few crackers, along with most of the can of ginger ale. The Peppermint candy was fantastic to suck on, and you kept a piece in your cheek to slowly suck on after you finished eating. For the first time in days the waves of nausea you’d been fighting were dissipating before noon.  
  
Dean patted your knee. “You did good, sweetheart,” he said before he took the tray away. When he came back you rested your head on his lap and continued watching the movie you’d started. Dean draped his arm over your waist, his hand coming to rest against your tummy.  
  
You spent the rest of the day letting Dean fuss over you, which he insisted was only right for a change. You found that lemon water did not agree with your stomach, but he and Sam froze some Gatorade in ice cube trays, which was amazing to suck on, and helped keep up your electrolytes.  
  
You felt considerably better by that evening, and even managed to keep a bowl of chicken soup down. The three of you passed the time playing poker since you insisted you couldn’t watch TV anymore without losing half your brain cells.

Around nine o’clock Dean had drawn you a warm bubble bath and you’d relaxed for half an hour in the suds before pulling on a robe and heading for the bedroom. You were sitting in your pajamas, reading a book and leaning against the headboard when Dean walked into the room a short while later and closed the door behind him.

“You feeling okay, Winchester?” you asked.

“Yeah, why do you ask?”

“Little off your poker game tonight is all. I like to think I have an excuse - pregnancy brain and all, but Sam kicked your ass.”

“Pregnancy brain?” Dean said, raising an eyebrow at you as he set his handgun on the nightstand. 

“Yep. I’ve got 7 months to milk that excuse for all its worth,” you told him. Dean chuckled at you as he plugged his phone in to charge. “So, is everything really okay?” you asked again, still not satisfied with his previous answer.

A little frown pulled at the corners of his mouth as he untied and kicked off his boots. “I may have been a little distracted worrying about my best girl,” he admitted as he crawled up the bed to reach you.

“Don’t you worry about me,” you said with a smile as he came close.

Dean gave you a quick kiss on the mouth and pulled back to look at you with a smirk. “I’ll decide.”

“Oh yeah? Well, I don’t think I can take watching you play poker that terribly for another 7 months,” you teased. “Get your act together, Winchester.”

"I’ll show you, woman,” he growled playfully, pinning your hands above your head with one of his and kissing down your jawline. Your breath caught in your throat when he gave your skin a soft nip with his teeth.

You wrapped one leg over his back, using what little leverage you had to pull him down closer to you. He moaned, a rumble from deep in his chest, sending shivers down your spine.  
  
“Dean…” you breathed.  
  
His head snapped up, looking almost apologetic as he released your wrists. “Got caught up,” he said. “Sorry. We don’t have to - we probably shouldn’t….”  
  
“You don’t need to be sorry unless you stop,” you told him.  
  
He raised an eyebrow. “You sure?” It was adorable how worried he looked. 

“Are you going to finish what you started or not?” You bit your lip and watched him, recognizing the lust that flashed in his eyes, sharpening his features and making your breath quicken. You just wanted to feel beautiful - normal again - after the rough week you’d spent being sick. The way Dean was looking at you now almost made you forget how not sexy you’d been feeling.  
  
“I’ll tell ya what, sweetheart,” he said as he hitched your pajama bottoms down, discarding them. His hand lightly brushed along your inner thigh and your breath came faster. “I’m just going to take care of you tonight. You deserve it.” He tentatively pushed your shirt up, kissing your belly button, his scruff tickling your skin before his eyes locked on yours. “I want you to lay back and just enjoy yourself. Will you do that for me?”  
  
You nodded, biting your bottom lip. Dean’s mouth was on yours in an instant. He dragged your lower lip through his teeth, his hands lightly kneading your flesh through your shirt until you had to break the kiss long enough for your top to come off. His heated gaze wandered, taking you in.  
  
“You’re beautiful,” he said, forcefully locking eyes with you again. “Nothing could ever make me think differently. Remember that.”  
  
And his lips crashed on yours again while one hand worked at the waistband of your panties, tugging gently down. You raised your bottom just far enough off the bed for him to get your panties off completely, and then he wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking gently. 

You gasped a little, surprised at how sensitive you were, but enjoying the feel of his mouth on you. His fingers lightly brushed between your legs, finding that you were already becoming slick and ready for whatever he had waiting for you.

He was gentle tonight, propped up on one elbow with his long frame stretched out alongside yours, the heat from his body causing goose pimples to raise on your flesh as he teased at your most sensitive spot while kissing you senseless. 

Every now and then he would release your mouth to let you catch your breath. But that didn’t stop him from tucking his chin down to lick, suck, and nibble at your breasts. Dean’s oral fixation meant he could never keep his mouth off of you for long when he had you stretched out before him like this. 

With no discerning pattern, his fingers worked between your legs, alternating between tapping lightly on your clit to swirling circles around it, and even plunging inside you slowly, torturously, only to drag two fingers up along your swollen nub, trapping it between them with pressure that made your breath catch.

He released your nipple with a soft pop, mouth moving to smile against yours as he kissed you through the moan you couldn’t hold back. 

Then his fingers were at it again, swirling, tapping, stroking so softly. You found it hard to kiss him back, struggling to breath now with the overload of sensations, and Dean slid down just far enough to pull your nipple between his lips and suckle you. His fingers began sliding back and forth over your clit then, faster … harder.

You wrapped your hand up in the flannel of his overshirt, gripping and holding on for dear life as the dizzying sensations rolled over you and peaked, your hips rocking in time with the waves of your orgasm.

Dean’s fingers were soft now as they lightly stroked you, drawing out the pleasure for as long as possible. He released your breast and kissed your forehead as you opened your eyes to look up at him. 

He was watching you with such adoration, and no less heat in his gaze for it. His fingers stopped stroking, but rather than pulling his hand away, he rested his palm lightly there, cupping you and trapping all the warmth where it felt best.

“Doing okay?” he asked softly.

You managed a nod, smiling up at him. “Better than okay.”

He left a soft kiss on the tip of your nose like he had any damn business being so adorable and so goddamn sexy at the same time. Like your time spent with him would have somehow allowed you to build up an immunity against his charms. Like your heart wasn’t just now starting to slow in its efforts to break free from your ribcage. 

“Close your eyes,” he whispered, watching and waiting expectantly until you did as he asked.

You weren’t surprised when you felt him tuck his head down to nuzzle at your breast again. His hot breath tickled the skin over your sternum when he said, “Just breathe, sweetheart. This is me taking care of you.”

And Dean did more than just take care of you. He gently coaxed two more orgasms out of you before undressing and climbing in the sheets beside you. You were floating on the bliss of it all, satisfied in every cell of your body, and utterly spent. He tucked you up against his side and you fell asleep with your head on his chest while he ran his fingers over your hair, his heartbeat lulling you to sleep.

Please consider supporting my writing by [buying me a **coffee**.](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fko-fi.com%2Fmuchamused&t=NmY4YmE2MGQ2MmQ5ZTc1NTFjY2ZhMDUwOGY4ZjYwYjFiNWRlMjBmOSxyeFk2cWRuWQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AQo5-YbXswGWjbyLDWCWv2A&p=https%3A%2F%2Fmuchamusedaboutnothing.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F623440180610826240%2Fheart-of-a-hunter-act-v-ch-29&m=1&ts=1599863773) In my case, it’s Dr. Pepper, but a little caffeine goes a long way when it comes to writing and posting this labor of love.


	6. Chapter 6

  


“Would you get a load of these?” you said, cupping your boobs through your t-shirt. “They’re huge.”

Dean chuckled from where he was sitting on the bed, watching you. “They’re perfect.”

“Huge,” you repeated. “Like at least a full cup size bigger. And don’t get too used to it either, Winchester. They won’t stay this way forever.”

“I didn’t marry you for your boobs,” he said, smiling softly. “Although they are a nice bonus.”

“I’m only ten weeks along. They can’t get much bigger than this, can they?” you wondered out loud. “In any case, they hurt like hell. And none of my bras fit anymore.”

He got to his feet then, and you watched him approach you from behind in the mirror you were gazing into. He wrapped his arms around your waist and tucked his head to nuzzle at your neck playfully. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “Can I draw you a bubble bath to relax in?”

You considered him. “I mean, I wouldn’t try to talk you out of it….”

He smiled and leaned forward to kiss your cheek. “One bath coming right up.”

“Thanks honey,” you said, smiling sweetly at him before he left the room.

It was about ten minutes later that your phone dinged with a text. Confused to see Dean’s name on the screen, you opened it up to see a picture of the bunker bathtub full of bubbles and just looking so damn inviting you could hardly stand it. You let out a little squeal in delight as you headed out into the hall to make your way to the bathroom.

When you walked inside, you were surprised to find your husband in the bathtub, leaning against the back and smiling as he waved you over.

“What exactly are you up to, Winchester?” you said with a grin as you closed the door behind you and locked it.

“Just some quiet relaxation with my hot as hell wife,” he said innocently as you approached. 

“I think you mean pregnant as hell,” you returned as you pulled your shirt up over your head and dropped it.

He chuckled softly. “Pregnant, yes, but let’s reserve ‘pregnant as hell’ for when you can’t see your toes over your belly.”

You dropped your pants to your ankles and kicked them off, sliding down your underwear and catching the way Dean stared at you unabashedly as you stood there before him. Heat rose in your cheeks upon seeing the look in his eye.

It was the perfect mix of sweet and sultry. And god dammit if that wasn’t your husband to a tee.

“Come on in,” he said, holding out a hand to help you. You took it, carefully stepping into the tub. He gripped your hips to steady you as you lowered yourself into the water, getting comfortable between his legs and leaning back against his chest. Dean brought his hands around to your front, resting them lightly on your still flat tummy. “Is the temperature okay?”

“Mmmm…. It’s just right,” you moaned, feeling the effects of the warm water as your muscles began to relax. The bubbles were plentiful, and smelled like your body wash.

“Good,” he said, placing a kiss on your hair. “Now let’s see if we can get the girls to feel better, too.” 

You weren’t sure what he had in mind, but before you could wonder for too long, he palmed your breasts lightly with his hands and began to gently knead them. The soapy water worked like massage oil, warm and slippery and soothing. You moaned softly, surprised at how good his hands felt on your sore breasts as he worked his magic. His movements were soft and slow and intentional, and just felt so damn good you could hardly believe it.

“Dean Winchester,” you breathed. “Slayer of monsters. Master of booby massage.”

He chuckled at that. “I just want you to feel better. I hate that you’re hurting.”

“Not hurting right now,” you assured him. “I mean, they’re still sore, but you and your magic hands are working wonders. Just don’t stop. You’re hired.”

“Just say the word, sweetheart. I could do this every night.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” you said with a smile, turning your head to kiss his cheek appreciatively.

“If you’re feeling up to it tomorrow,” he began, “I think we ought to hit a mall. Get you some bras that fit right.”

“Look at you … making all my dreams come true.”

“We gotta work on you raising your standards a little,” he teased. It was your turn to laugh softly. “And hey, if the water gets too cool we’ll put some more warm in. In the meantime, just relax. You’ve earned it.”

He did add more warm water to the tub once, but before it could cool again you were perfectly sleepy and relaxed and much less sore than you had been before.

“Let’s get you to bed, then,” he said to you when you expressed your great satisfaction out loud. 

You slid forward in the tub to allow him room to get out first. You enjoyed the view as his muscles stretched and flexed while he made his way over to the wall and retrieved towels. He dried quickly and pulled a robe on before coming over to help you get out of the tub safely, reminding you to stand on the rug so you wouldn’t slip while he wrapped you up in a big fluffy towel. 

Once you were mostly dry he ordered you to drop the towel and wrapped a warm robe around you instead, tying the strings and taking you lightly by the shoulders before he kissed your forehead and gazed at you adoringly.

“How did I get so lucky?” you said to him.

“Must have pulled some strings in a previous life,” he said with a smirk.

You grinned as he put his hand on the small of your back and walked with you back to the bedroom. You yawned as you sat down on the edge of the bed, watching as he walked to the closet.

“Which one tonight?” he asked, rummaging and shuffling hangers back and forth.

“Surprise me.”

He moved a few things around and then settled on a black t-shirt, pulling it out and holding it up for you to inspect. It was his AC/DC shirt, and you nodded as he lightly tossed it to you. He got dressed in a Henley and some sweat pants while you pulled his t-shirt over your head and then slid on a clean pair of underwear before getting in the covers.

Bending down to kiss you on the lips, he checked you had all the covers up where you needed them.

“Thank you, honey.” You wrapped your arms around his neck to hug him, and felt one of his arms wrap around your back to return the gesture.

“How are the boobs?” he asked, pulling back far enough to study your face.

“The girls are much happier now, thank you very much.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” He winked at you. “I’m not goin’ far. Holler if you need anything. I’ll be in to bed soon. Sleep good, sweetheart.””

You nodded and closed your eyes as he turned off the bedroom light and closed the door behind him.

Sam was sitting at the table in the war room, and for once he didn’t have an open book or a laptop in front of him. Instead, light glinted off the bottle of Dean’s favorite whiskey and he noticed Sam had an extra glass sitting there just for him as he took a seat across the table.

Sam slid the bottle of whiskey toward him. “How is she?”

“Tired,” Dean said, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he poured a finger’s worth. “She’s good though.” He took a sip and set the glass back down, feeling Sam’s eyes on him. “What is it?” 

“Do … do you smell like strawberries?”

“That would be the bubble bath,” Dean said matter-of-factly.

Sam smirked. “Bubble bath?”

“That’s what I said, Sammy.”

Sam chuckled, lifting his glass for another sip. “Well, okay then.”

True to his word, the next morning Dean made breakfast and then asked if you were ready for some shopping when everyone was done eating. Sam had adamantly declined the offer to join you for bra shopping, despite you insisting he didn’t know what he was missing out on. He was still laughing and shaking his head as he ducked out of the library with a wave as you and Dean set off for the garage. 

Once at the mall Dean insisted on grabbing an Orange Julius in the food court. You carried your frothy orange drinks with you as you wandered, and Dean tapped your arm as he fought back a brain freeze, trying to get your attention and pointing ahead to the maternity store on the left.

“Uh, no. I’m good.” You kept walking, making it a few yards before you realized he wasn’t still in step next to you. You turned around to find him standing there staring in the display window. 

“Why not?” he asked, gesturing dramatically to the storefront.

“Maybe because I’m not even showing yet,” you reminded him. “What do I need maternity clothes for?”

“For the future,” he suggested as you backtracked to stand in front of him. “Believe It or not, this baby is just going to grow and grow like crazy once it gets on a roll.”

“Dean, come on…. I don’t need these tent style shirts and dresses. Really. I’ll make due just fine with my jeans and t-shirts. Or your t-shirts. Whatever works.”

“They probably have bras that will-”

“Pregnant women aren’t the only ones with boobs. I don’t need a maternity store for that.”

He grinned at you, somewhat disbelieving. “You really won’t even go inside?”

“No,” you said with a laugh. “I’m not going in there.” This time when you headed back down in the direction you’d been going, Dean took a few long bow-legged strides to catch up to you, coming along.

It wasn’t long before you spotted a Victoria’s Secret, pointing. “See? That’s where I’m going to find my bras.”

You browsed for several minutes, Dean in tow behind you. “I think I might be this size,” you said as you picked up a bra off the rack and double checked the tag. “But it’s hard to know. They’re just so freaking big now.”

“Would it hurt to spoil yourself a little?” Dean suggested, picking up a lacey little number nearby and holding it up for you to inspect. 

“Don’t you mean spoil yourself?” you said, raising an eyebrow. 

“Just seems like a damn shame not to show ‘em off a little, sweetheart. That’s all.” He grinned like an adorable idiot, wagging his eyebrows in return.

“I’m going to have to try this on to be sure,” you said, tucking the bra you were holding under your arm and glancing around for the dressing room. But just as he was about to return the lingerie set to the rack, you snatched it out of his hands, turning that pout on his lips into a victorious grin as you carried both items off to the dressing room. 

“I love you,” he hollered after you. 

Only then did he notice the middle-aged woman standing a few feet away who had apparently been watching the entire exchange, and not with amusement. He rocked on his heels, stuffing his hands in his pockets and whistling to himself awkwardly as he awaited your return.

Please consider supporting my writing by **[buying me a coffee.](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fko-fi.com%2Fmuchamused&t=NmY4YmE2MGQ2MmQ5ZTc1NTFjY2ZhMDUwOGY4ZjYwYjFiNWRlMjBmOSxyeFk2cWRuWQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AQo5-YbXswGWjbyLDWCWv2A&p=https%3A%2F%2Fmuchamusedaboutnothing.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F623440180610826240%2Fheart-of-a-hunter-act-v-ch-29&m=1&ts=1599863773) **In my case, it’s Dr. Pepper, but a little caffeine goes a long way when it comes to writing and posting this labor of love.


	7. Chapter 7

  


You were sitting on a yoga mat in the bunker’s makeshift gym, doing your best to get some stretching and meditation in before your body insisted on a nap, which it did so often these days.

You were half an hour into your favorite poses when your phone rang, pulling you right back into the real world and making a smile break out on your face as you answered Dean’s call.

“Hey there, Winchester,” you said in greeting.

“Hey sweetheart.”

“Tell me you got the shifter,” you added.

“We got it all right. Can’t believe it took a whole goddamn week, but it’s over now.”

You breathed a sigh of relief. “You and that brother of yours both in one piece?”

“We are. We actually just loaded up in the car to head home. I’m just sorry we couldn’t get the job done in time for me to make it back for your first doctor’s appointment.” You could hear the weariness in his voice, though he was obviously doing his best to hide it.

“Enough with the apologies,” you said with a smile. “I’m the one who talked you into going on this hunt. I’m just glad you and Sam are safe. And having one less shifter in the world we’re going to be raising our baby in? I’d call that a win.”

“Enough about shifters,” Dean said. “I called to get the scoop on your appointment. So the doctor said you’re healthy? Baby’s healthy?”

“We’re both great,” you assured him. “The baby’s heart rate was perfect on doppler. Everything is just as it should be.”

“That’s so good to hear,” Dean said. “What else? Tell me everything.”

“Well, the rest is just so exciting you could hardly stand it. I filled out a bunch of paperwork, talked about my last period, had a pap smear, peed in a cup….”

Dean laughed softly at that. “Still, I wish I could have been there with you. You shouldn’t have to go to these appointments alone.”

“Yeah, well, in a perfect world monsters wouldn’t be terrorizing people, either. But someone’s gotta keep the evil at bay, and you and Sam are the best men for the job. Any monster you take out between now and the time the baby is born is just one less creature wreaking havoc in this world we’re bringing a baby into. I can handle a little appointment all by my lonesome.”

“You can handle anything. No doubt about that. Oh, hey, what about this morning sickness? Now that you’re three months along is there any hope it might let up soon?”

“It could,” you offered. “It’s more likely it’ll slowly improve over the next month or two though. Hard to know exactly. Everyone’s a little different.”

“How are you feeling right now?”

“Right now,” you said as you got to your feet and grabbed your bottle of water, making your way back out into the hallway. “Jogging for ten minutes on the treadmill feels like a workout. So, after an attempt at yoga that tuckered me right out, I am going to take a shower and then a nice, long nap on the couch.”

“Rub it in,” Dean said longingly. “You know how much I love our couch naps.”

“When will you be back?” you asked. “Tomorrow morning?”

“Make that late tonight,” he stated. “Stops for fuel for us and the car, and otherwise we’ll be driving straight on home. I miss you like crazy.”

“I miss you, too. And you owe me a shared couch nap.”

“You got it, sweetheart.”

It was just before midnight when Dean set his bag down on a table in the bunker’s library after a long day of driving. 

He was just turning back around when you wrapped your arms around him in greeting, hugging him tight.

“Oh, hey,” he said warmly in surprise, his arms coming around you without hesitation. “Didn’t think you’d still be up.”

You buried your face in his chest, enjoying the familiar texture of flannel against your skin as you breathed in the scent of him. When you pulled back to look up at him your eyes were glistening with tears.

“Hey now, what’s this?” he said, brushing your hair back as he gazed at you in concern.

You blinked and a tear escaped to trail down your cheek, his thumb moving to brush it away. “I just missed you,” you admitted, smiling up at him. 

“Awe, sweetheart. Come here,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips before cradling your head to his chest again. He ran his fingers over your hair softly. “I’m here now.”

“This is what I do now,” you breathed into his shirt. “I cry. For no damn reason. Cried myself to sleep twice while you were gone and I don’t even know why.”

Dean pulled back just far enough to look at you again, saying, “Well, I mean, having to be away from all of this-” he gestured to himself, head to toe, “would make anyone weepy.” He quirked an eyebrow and you laughed out loud, enjoying the playful grin on his face for having gotten a laugh out of you.

“That’s it,” you admitted with a laugh, falling back into arms. “Mystery solved.”

“I’m sure it’s got absolutely nothing to do with the fact that you’re busy growing a tiny human inside you.”

“Of course not,” you said, tilting your head up to entice another kiss from him. He pressed his lips to yours and you smiled against his mouth as you reached around and groped his ass with a hand, making him jump a little in surprise. “I did miss all of you, Winchester.”

“I missed you too,” he said, green eyes searching yours. “Both of you.”

Your heart felt even lighter at his inclusion of the baby. “Come on. It’s past your bedtime.” He gave you another quick peck on the lips and took your hand in his, leading you to the hallway just as Sam passed by.

“Hey Sam,” you called out.

“Oh, hey. You’re up late,” Sam said as he turned to look at you and Dean. “Everything okay?”

“It is now,” you assured him with a smile. 

“All right then, catch up in the morning?” he asked.

“I’ll make pancakes,” you promised. “Sleep good, Brawny.”

“You guys, too,” Sam said with a nod as he headed for his own bedroom. 

“Mmmm…. Pancakes,” Dean said longingly as you walked to your room and he opened the door for you to go inside ahead of him.

“Are you hungry?” you asked him as you turned to study his face.

“Oh, you know me, I’m always hungry,” he said casually as he pulled his flannel off and dropped it in the basket in the corner. “I’ll be fine. I did eat dinner.”

“What, like five or six hours ago?” you asked as you gazed at the clock on the nightstand. You moved to his side and took his hand in yours again, pulling him toward the door.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“We’re going to grab a snack,” you insisted.

“We don’t have to … ”

But you knew Dean Winchester all too well. He wasn’t about to send you to bed alone after being away from each other for a week, especially after you’d gotten all weepy on him. And that meant the only way he was getting something to eat was if you insisted and joined him.

“Really, I’ll be fine until morning,” he added as you tugged on his arm.

“Nope,” you insisted, shaking your head. “Besides, baby Winchester wants ice cream.”

Dean chuckled but fell in step with you as you headed for the Mess Hall, his hand coming to rest on the small of your back.

“I can make pancakes now,” you offered.

“Nah. Let’s all do breakfast together in the morning. That was a good idea.”

“Are you pretending you wouldn’t be willing to eat pancakes twice back to back?” you teased him. “Because now I’m wondering if a shifter came back to me instead of my husband….”

“Pancakes are too much effort tonight,” he said as you opened the freezer and pulled out a carton of ice cream. 

He paused to gaze at the little print out on the fridge that showed a size comparison of your growing baby at 12 weeks. “The size of a lime,” he mused with a smile.

“Yep. More than doubled in size in the last three weeks.” You pulled the lid off the carton and grabbed a spoon, scraping some off the top and popping it in your mouth. You savored the taste, closing your eyes and enjoying the cool refreshing flavor before you swallowed and opened your eyes again to find Dean gazing at you with amusement.

“Whatcha got there?”

“Cherry Moose Tracks,” you answered. 

“Moose tracks?”

“Sam bought it for me the first time,” you elaborated. “He thought it was funny. Turns out it’s also addicting. I can’t get enough of this stuff. There’s these little cherry filled chocolate cups…. Baby likes. Mamma likes. It’s a win-win.”

You scooped more into your spoon and offered it to him. Dean accepted the bite, contemplating before he gave an impressed nod. 

“Hmmm?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He nodded. “Daddy likes.”

Grinning, you grabbed another spoon from the drawer and handed it to him. “Told ya.”

He sat across from you at the table and you put the carton between you to eat from. You leaned in far enough to spot a little cherry-filled chocolate cup, scooping it up in your next spoonful and moaning softly as you ate it. Dean was watching you with an amused glint in his eye when you looked up again.

“What?” you asked around the bite of ice cream.

“Nothing,” he said with a little shake of his head, going in for another spoonful. You cocked your head, waiting for an actual answer. “Just glad we drove all day through,” Dean said in response to your questioning stare. “It was worth it just to get back here and eat ice cream at midnight with my best girl. That’s all.”

You smiled and reached across the table to grip his hand with your own. “If this ice cream doesn’t give me a cavity, your sweet talkin’ will.”

Dean chuckled softly and held out a bite of ice cream toward you. “You are sassier after midnight.”

“Am not.” You accepted the bite of ice cream and watched as he raised an eyebrow accusingly.

“You always have been.”

“Whatever. You love it.” It was your turn to raise an eyebrow.

He stabbed at the ice cream with his spoon for another bite, a half smile tugging at his lips. “Damn straight.”

Please consider supporting my writing by [buying me a coffee.](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fko-fi.com%2Fmuchamused&t=NmY4YmE2MGQ2MmQ5ZTc1NTFjY2ZhMDUwOGY4ZjYwYjFiNWRlMjBmOSxyeFk2cWRuWQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AQo5-YbXswGWjbyLDWCWv2A&p=https%3A%2F%2Fmuchamusedaboutnothing.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F623440180610826240%2Fheart-of-a-hunter-act-v-ch-29&m=1&ts=1599863773) In my case, it’s Dr. Pepper, but a little caffeine goes a long way when it comes to writing and posting this labor of love.


	8. Chapter 8

You picked the bathroom lock without much effort, sneaking inside to the steam-filled room and locking it again behind you.

Dean was in the shower and completely unsuspecting as you undressed. You moved to the edge of the curtain, calling out softly, “Hey, big guy. Mind if I join you?” You slid the curtain back as Dean turned to face you, a look of pleasant surprise on his features.

“Hell yes,” he said, snaking an arm around your waist and pulling you into the spray of hot water with him. You wrapped your arms around his neck. “Not gonna lie, I wasn’t expecting this. Not after our long romp in the sheets this morning.”

“What can I say? I can’t get enough of you. If you’re up for it, that is….” You wrapped your hand around the length of him, making him gasp with need.

“Oh sweetheart, I’m up for anything, anytime." 

You grinned seductively, stroking him to full attention as he tucked his head down to kiss you, long and hard, until you were both a little out of breath. Then he gently turned you around until you back was flush against him, his cock pressed against your ass as he brought his hands around to rest on your little baby bump.

It was really only the last week or so that your tummy had taken the shape of more than what could pass for just a little fullness after a large meal. With any type of tight shirt you could see the change, the baby bump that would continue to grow and grow as your baby did. And Dean was absolutely fascinated by it. 

Between your surging hormones and Dean’s inability to keep his hands off your tummy, the two of you were spending a lot of time rolling around between the sheets. Much to poor Sam’s exasperation.

Dean’s hands glided over your slippery skin, fondling your breasts before moving south over your belly and then further down to tease that bundle of nerves between your legs.

You leaned into the wall, anchoring yourself as he bent his knees far enough to enter you from behind. You moaned as he filled you up completely. 

Dean paused briefly to give you a second to breathe, to adjust to his size. His left arm hooked across your chest, hand gripping your shoulder gently, and you knew this was his way of steadying you, concerned you might slip and fall. Then he slowly began slowly moving in and out of you.

And it just felt so damn good with him holding you tight, your wet bodies pressed against each other. You wanted to enjoy it. To enjoy him. And the fact that he was here with you and not off picking a fight with something evil without you.

He nipped lightly at the skin on your throat, making you gasp, and his attention on your clit became more urgent, focused. When he could tell you were getting close, he escalated his thrusting, moving in and out of you at a pace that made your vision blur with overwhelming sensation. When your orgasm rushed in, Dean’s came shortly after.

The two of you stood under the hot water for a moment, recovering and enjoying the afterglow in each other’s arms. 

When Dean turned off the water he stepped out and wrapped a towel around his waist, grabbing his robe to wrap you up in.

"Best shower I’ve had in a long while,” he said as he smiled at you. “Thank you.”

You grinned up at him as he bent to press a soft kiss to your lips. “You were so good, Winchester, that I’m suddenly and thoroughly tuckered out.”

“Couch nap?” he offered.

“God, yes.”

You both quickly dressed, and then the two of you snuggled up on the couch, your back against Dean’s chest as you stretched out in front of him and closed your eyes. His chest moving against you with his deep breathing, like a gentle rocking motion, had you feeling drowsy in no time.

Dean draped his arm over your waist, hand resting on your tummy, and the two of you promptly drifted off to sleep.

When you opened your eyes after about an hour, it was because of a light fluttering sensation low in your belly. You blinked a few times, and the sensation came again almost instantly. You lay there, warm and happy, snuggled up with your husband, and pondered the sensation as it came and went for a few moments.

You would later blame the fact that you were still drowsy from your nap as the reason it took you a moment to realize what you were feeling was actually the baby moving.

“Dean,” you said, patting his hand as it rested over your stomach. “Honey, wake up.”

Dean stirred, hand coming away as he groaned and you sat up, shifting to turn you face him better on the sofa. “What is it?” he asked.

“I can feel it,” you squealed happily. “I can feel the baby moving.”

Dean’s eyes widened at your declaration, and he was suddenly alert, sitting up the rest of the way and swinging his legs down, feet hitting the floor. “Are you serious?" 

You nodded, grinning at him. “Sixteen weeks along now. God, I’ve been waiting for this to happen.”

"What’s it feel like?”

“Like a … a little flutter. Almost like a butterfly. It’s amazing.”

Dean’s smile grew to mirror your own. “That’s awesome.”

You nodded again. “I wish you could feel it. It’s just incredible.”

Dean leaned his forehead to rest against yours. “You are incredible, sweetheart. You’re going to be the best mom. Seriously. You are.”

You kissed him, lips lingering against his as you enjoyed the soft flutter of your unborn baby wiggling and making its presence known.

And of course Sam chose that exact moment to walk in. He groaned out loud at seeing you kissing, and you and Dean pulled back to gaze up at him.

“Your timing is impeccable, Sam,” Dean said flatly.

“It’s like you’re doing it on purpose,” Sam countered, throwing Dean a look.

“It’s not that,” you interjected with a laugh. “I just felt the baby moving for the first time.”

Sam blinked at you. “Wait, really?”

You smiled. “Really. It almost tickles.”

Sam shifted his weight on his feet, watching you. “Wow. That’s crazy.”

“And wonderful,” you said dreamily, leaning your head against Dean’s shoulder.

“Did you have an actual reason for interrupting?” Dean said to Sam with mock annoyance. 

“Yeah, actually. A case.”

“Lay it on us,” Dean said, gesturing for Sam to have a seat on the sofa. 

Sam declined the offer to sit, saying, “There’s a town in Nebraska, just outside of Lincoln. There have been a string of incidents involving a house over the last few months, but when a local reporter finally decided to do a story on it, they did a little research and determined that there’s a history with that specific property, going way back to the 70s.”

“What kind of history?” Dean asked.

“Ghost stuff?” you chimed in.

“Yeah, maybe.” Sam chewed his lip for a second, apparently deep in thought.

“This reporter,” Dean began. “Whack job?”

“I don’t think so. I browsed some of his work. He seems to be the true journaling type. Sort of put his career on the line a bit with this piece about paranormal-type activity. I’d like to talk to him, for sure.”

“Well, let’s go,” Dean said.

“I’m coming,” you added.

Dean looked at you, his brow furrowed. “You sure?”

“Absolutely. I need a change of scenery.”

“Like haunted house change of scenery?” Dean said slowly, concern embedded in his voice and his features.

“More like cheap hotel room change of scenery,” you assured him. “Maybe police station visits or trips to the morgue, but I’m not putting this baby at risk. Don’t worry. I’ll leave all the heavy lifting to you two.”

“Okay then, go grab your stuff,” Dean said, smiling as you kissed his cheek and jumped up. You gave Sam a little hug as you passed, making him grin and shake his head.

“What?” Dean asked, watching his brother’s expression as you disappeared into the hallway.

Sam raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you think you guys can keep your hands off each other long enough for the drive?”

“I’m not making any promises, Sammy,” Dean said with a smirk. “Husbandly duties and all that. She just can’t get enough of this.” He gestured with a hand to his whole self as he got to his feet. “And I can’t blame her. But I’m going to enjoy the hell out of whatever in the pregnancy hormones is doing this. Even if it kills me.”

“Oh it just might,” Sam cut in.

“Kill you, I mean. When it drives me to murder you.”

Dean’s hand went to the back of Sam’s neck, pushing him along playfully as they went into the hallway together. “Then you’d have to raise my spawn,” Dean said, a grin on his face.

“Just can’t win, can I?” Sam said with a chuckle, dodging when Dean made a move to catch him in the ribs. 

“Meet you in the garage in ten,” Dean called out as he cut in the direction of the room you shared.

“And no quickies!” Sam added adamantly, almost instantly regretting the words as they left his mouth. If his brother hadn’t already been planning on one, he’d just given him the idea.

Dean and Sam took way too much pleasure in giving you shit about having to stop and pee every other town or so along the way. And you had to admit, you’d required a surprising amount of potty breaks. You’d been having to pee more and more often, typical with pregnancy, but you hadn’t realized exactly how often until you weren’t conveniently near a bathroom like you were all day at the bunker. Something about sitting in the car, or the way the baby was particularly positioned right on top of your bladder, was complicating the road trip for sure.

“This is what I do now,” you told them both unapologetically as you stopped for the third time. “I snack and I pee.”’

“Might as well refuel while we’re here,” Dean said as he got out and punched in his selections at the pump. You headed for the inside of the service station to ask for the bathroom key and browse the snack aisle. 

Sam chuckled lightly and got out of the car to stretch his legs and wash the windshield to make himself useful. 

They were both waiting when you got back. Sam was back in the car, and Dean was leaning against the side, boots crossed and casually watching for you to return.

“All good, sweetheart?” he said, eyeing the assortment of snacks you were carrying.

“Yep. And I might even share my goodies.”

It took forever to reach your destination, a fact which you insisted was not solely due to your frequent need to empty your bladder. It was just a long drive.

It was almost ten o’clock at night when you were getting settled into your room. That’s right. One room. The motel only had one with two queen beds for the night. The manager insisted they may have another free room beginning tomorrow night, but you’d all be bunking together for now, to Sam’s great chagrin. 

“Don’t be a baby,” Dean told Sam as the two of them unloaded your bags from the car. “We’ll behave.”

“Maybe I should just sleep in the car,” Sam said, and Dean was quite certain he was at least seriously considering it.

‘Knock it off,” Dean said as he tossed him his duffel bag. “Let’s get some sleep. We’ll hit the police station first thing in the morning.”

You sat on the bed, fiddling with a little elastic strip that you’d cut holes in and sewn a button onto the end. The hope was that it would expand the waist size of your jeans just enough to let you keep wearing them. You’d seen something similar online a while back, but as you hadn’t been showing yet, you put off getting one. Now here you were trying to rig a home made one. 

Dean stood at the sink, brushing his teeth, and Sam sat on the other bed, staring at his laptop. You got to your feet and hooked the elastic contraption to your jeans, finding that it gave you an extra two inches of wiggle room. You held your shirt up enough to show off your invention and your belly, spinning around to face Sam and proudly calling out, “Ta-da!”

Sam looked over at you, brow furrowing as he gazed curiously at you. “That’s, uh, well … nice?” he tried.

You smirked at him. “It’s awesome is what it is. It means I can keep wearing my jeans.”

Sam grinned, shaking his head at you.

“You know, you are four months pregnant at this point. It wouldn’t be weird to start wearing clothes that are designed for pregnant women.”

“And give up my chic lumberjack attire?” you teased. “No thank you.”

“She’s got this aversion to maternity clothes,” Dean said after spitting in the sink.

Sam blinked at you. “What? Why?”

“Because,” you whined. “The stuff they make for pregnant women is just … well, it’s awful.”

“It can’t be that bad,” Sam offered. Dean gave a little one-shouldered shrug, as if to tell Sam it was a losing battle.

“It can and it is,” you insisted, catching the smug look Dean threw his brother in response.

As you were all pretty exhausted from the long day of driving, sleep came easier for you than it had in weeks, tucked up against Dean’s chest in one bed while Sam crashed in the other. It was just like old times before the pregnancy had all but stopped you from hunting.

Please consider supporting my writing by [buying me a coffee.](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fko-fi.com%2Fmuchamused&t=NmY4YmE2MGQ2MmQ5ZTc1NTFjY2ZhMDUwOGY4ZjYwYjFiNWRlMjBmOSxyeFk2cWRuWQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AQo5-YbXswGWjbyLDWCWv2A&p=https%3A%2F%2Fmuchamusedaboutnothing.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F623440180610826240%2Fheart-of-a-hunter-act-v-ch-29&m=1&ts=1599863773) In my case, it’s Dr. Pepper, but a little caffeine goes a long way when it comes to writing and posting this labor of love.


	9. Chapter 9

Dean checked his watch for the third time in five minutes, leaning forward, elbows on his knees as he ran his hand through his hair. 

You put down the magazine you were reading to take his hand in yours. “Relax.”  
  
“I can’t,” he said, his voice low. He gestured with his other hand around the clinic’s waiting room. “We’ve been here half an hour. Your appointment was supposed to be fifteen minutes ago.”  
  
“It’s a medical office,” you whispered. “Contrary to popular belief, the appointment time is just when the patient is expected to be here to check in. That doesn’t mean that’s necessarily when you’ll get called back. In fact, that’s rarely how it works.” Dean huffed indignantly, which made you grin and roll your eyes. “Besides, you’re not the one who has a full bladder until we’re finished here.” He didn’t even crack a smile. “Everything’s fine,” you added. “They’ll call us back soon enough.”  
  
Dean chewed his bottom lip. “What if they say something’s wrong?” he asked. You met his gaze, seeing through the agitation in his green eyes to the worry embedded there.

“Is that what you’re so worked up about?” you asked. Dean’s jaw clenched but he didn’t elaborate. “Look, we’re going to face whatever comes at us together,” you told him, squeezing his hand a little tighter. “Dean, no there’s no reason to believe everything isn’t perfectly fine. Okay? I’m healthy, and I’m sure our baby is, too.”  
  
Dean nodded, and you saw his gaze shift in the direction of the door where the nurses had been calling patients names. 

The hunt you’d gone on with the boy two weeks back had only taken a few days to work and another full day of driving to get home, but after returning to the bunker Dean and Sam had left almost immediately again when another case presented itself three states over. You’d been exhausted from the road tripping and all the FBI faking, and had decided to sit the last one out.

When your OBGYN’s office had called to move up your 18 week appointment a few days early so the doctor could attend a last minute conference, the result had been that Dean had missed that appointment, too. 

“I’m 0 for 2,” he’d said on the phone when you’d called to break the news about your appointment getting rescheduled. There was no way he and Sam could make it back in time, and you didn’t want him trying, but he was clearly more than just a little disappointed to be missing out on yet another appointment for the baby.

You’d reassured him that it was fine, that you could handle it by yourself. And as much as that was true, you’d been relieved and grateful when the two of them had managed to get home before this next appointment which involved a detailed ultrasound of the baby. 

The nurse in pink scrubs Dean had been eyeing every time she entered the waiting room finally called out your name just then, and you and Dean both got to your feet to follow her back to the exam room.   
  
Five minutes later you were reclining on an exam table while Dean stood, anxiously shifting his weight at your side. You felt a flutter in your stomach that wasn’t a result of the baby kicking. “You’re making me nervous,” you said to Dean with a soft laugh.  
  
“Sorry,” he said, placing his palm on your baby bump, which was big enough now you couldn’t easily hide it. He leaned down, his face close to your belly like he always did when he was talking to the baby, and said, “Remember what we talked about? No being shy today. Mommy and Daddy are anxious to meet you, but until then, we’d at least like to see you.”  
  
You smiled as you watched him, wondering how you could ever love him more than you did in that moment. 

A few moments later the ultrasound technician introduced herself as Kalli when she walked into the room. “Are we excited to see this baby?” she said with a grin as she gazed at the clipboard she was holding.  
  
“Very excited,” you answered. “And a little nervous,” you added, gazing up at Dean.  
  
Kalli smiled at him and said, “That’s okay. Dads are always nervous.”  
  
Dean shrugged. “Yeah, well, Mom’s a doctor, so she’s a rock star when it comes to all of this, but I’m totally clueless.”  
  
“Oh, I didn’t realize,” she said, her eyes brightening with interest. “What kind of doctor?”  
  
“Emergency medicine,” you answered. “But that was another life. I don’t really practice anymore.”  
  
“I imagine you’ve seen your fair share of everything,” she stated. “As for you, Dad, I’ll walk you through everything as we go,” she said to Dean as she pulled over the rolling screen. Dean gripped your hand in his, kissing it softly. “So, you’re almost nineteen weeks along,” she added as she grabbed the bottle of conductive gel. You nodded as you hitched up your shirt and she squirted the cool gel on your skin. “Do you want to know the sex of the baby?” Kalli asked as she picked up the transducer.  
  
“You even have to ask?” Dean blurted.  
  
Kalli laughed and said, “Well, sometimes couples like to wait until the delivery. I’d hate to spoil the surprise if that’s what you were planning.”  
  
“I guess we have enough surprises in our lives,” you answered with a grin.  
  
Dean nodded in agreement. “You can say that again.”  
  
"What do you do for a living?” Kalli asked Dean.  
  
“I, uh, hunt stuff,” he said brilliantly, running a hand through his hair. You grinned, surprised at how off his game he was just then. It reminded you of the day you’d met. It didn’t take him long to recover though, and he added, “I’m a government trapper. Keeps me on my toes.”  
  
“I bet it does.” Kalli placed the transducer on your stomach and began sliding it around as a black and white image appeared on the screen. 

“Hi there, baby Winchester,” Kalli said sweetly. She stayed her hand and pointed to the screen, describing to Dean what you could clearly already see. You were grateful she did, because your throat had suddenly constricted with emotion.  
  
Seeing your baby on the screen was overwhelming. Understanding the science behind it didn’t make it any less of a miracle that you and Dean had created this baby.   
  
“Here’s the baby’s head.” Kalli pointed and changed the depth on the ultrasound. “Look at that beautiful profile there,” she added.

You grinned and chanced a glance at Dean’s face, memorizing the wonder in his green eyes as he hung on every word. Kallie captured a couple of screenshots, took a few measurements and then moved further down. “Ah, see this little flutter here?” She pointed again. “That’s the baby’s heart beating.”  
  


“Would you look at that,” Dean breathed.  
  
“Let’s take a listen, shall we?” Kalli reached over to turn the volume on, and the sound of the baby’s heartbeat filled the room.  
  
Dean swallowed hard and squeezed your hand, and you smiled as you met his gaze. He brought your hand up, kissing it again. “Most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard,” he whispered. You could only manage a nod.  
  
“I can see all four chambers of the heart working,” Kalli observed, clicking with a mouse on the screen to record more measurements. “Everything looks and sounds great there….” She turned the volume down a bit, but let it play on in the background.

“There’s the umbilical cord,” she said. Then she moved the transducer around for a few seconds and paused again. She smiled and looked to you, the obvious joy on your face confirming that you were seeing what she was seeing on the screen.  
  
“What?” Dean asked, grinning. “What is it?”  
  
Kalli nodded to encourage you. “You want to do the honors, Mom?”  
  
You smiled through happy tears, looking into Dean’s eyes. Your voice cracked a little as you said, “It’s a boy.”  
  
Dean’s jaw tightened and he cocked his head slightly, that boyish smile of his stretching across his face as the news registered. His chest heaved with a breath like he hadn’t realized he’d been holding it, and a bark of a laugh escaped his lips. “A boy … ” he said, testing out the way the words rolled off his tongue.  
  
“We’re going to have a son,” you said, feeling like your smile could split your face in two.   
  
Dean bent down and pressed a soft kiss to your lips before placing another one on your forehead. He wiped at his face with his hand. “You’re sure?” he asked. 

“I’m sure,” you added.

  
Kalli froze the image on the screen, creating a digital circle around one spot and saving the screenshot. “Right here,” she said, grinning. “That’s-”  
  
“Baby junk,” Dean said, eyes wide. He puffed out his chest, smirking and making you laugh out loud.  
  
“Definitely a boy,” you added.  
  
Kalli continued taking measurements and showing Dean the baby’s lungs and kidneys. She grabbed a few more screenshots to print for you. “Ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes. Baby is healthy, and he’s measuring spot on for your due date,” she stated. “He’s going to be a handsome one, if you ask me.”  
  
“He’s awesome,” Dean said to you.  
  
You smiled, biting your lip. “He really is.”  
  
“Amniotic fluid levels are normal,” Kalli added, handing you a towel. “Placenta looks healthy. Everything looks great.”  
  
“Thank you,” you told her as you wiped the gel off your tummy.  
  
“You’re very welcome. Congratulations to you both,” she added before she left to print the pictures out for you.

  
On the way home you asked Dean to pull into the post office as you were expecting some packages. When you walked out with a small, padded envelope in hand Dean raised his eyebrows.  
  
“What ya got?”  
  
“A surprise,” you said as you climbed in the car. “I’ll show you when we get home.”

  
“I love this game. Let me guess,” Dean added, pulling out onto the road. “Is it something you wear?”  
  
You chuckled. “Nope.”  
  
His face fell. “You sure about that?”  
  
“It’s not lingerie,” you clarified.   
  
“Why the hell not?” he asked, but you could hear the smile in his tone.  
  
“You’ll like it. Trust me.”  
  
“Oh I trust you with my life, sweetheart. All the time. I just think you can be wearing something sexy while I’m trusting you. That’s all.”  
  
“I look like I swallowed a cantaloupe … whole,” you said with a laugh.  
  
Dean gave you a quick, but heated glance. He pulled your hand across the seat, holding it flat against his chest.  
  
You snickered, recognizing where he was going with the familiar gesture before you felt his heart thumping away beneath his shirt.  
  
“And that’s just me thinking about you in lingerie,” Dean said. “You actually wearing some? Well, that’s a higher gear altogether.”  
  
“If I remember right that’s how we got here to begin with,” you said, resting a hand on your baby bump.  
  
“True story,” Dean said, grinning. Then his expression changed to a more thoughtful one. “Wait, do you think it was the night we’d just come back from exorcising those two demons?”  
  
“The timing sure fits.”

Dean cocked his head, his gaze shifting from you to the road and back. “You’ve had that figured out for a while now, haven’t you?”  
  
It was more of a statement than a question, and you bit your bottom lip, shrugging coyly. “Maybe.” The look he gave you then was part impressed, part disbelief. “Doctor mode,” you stated, as if that explained it all. Apparently it did, as Dean accepted that with a nod.  
  
One you were back at the bunker you got comfortable on the couch and gave Dean permission to open the small package.  
  
He pulled out a white handheld device with a slightly rounded top, and another little plastic bag containing a phone adapter cord.

  
“What the hell is it?” Dean asked, looking puzzled.  
  
You pulled out your phone, opening the app you’d installed a week ago when you’d ordered the product online. You used the cord to attach the device to your phone and then slid your shirt up to reveal your baby bump.  
  
You took the device from Dean and he watched in silent curiosity as you moved it around on your tummy. 

It wasn’t long before the sound of the baby’s heartbeat was coming through your phone’s speaker. 

“No way,” Dean said slowly, a smile spreading back into place on his lips. “That is awesome.”  
  
“I got it so I can record and send you the baby’s heartbeat when you’re away,” you told him, earning a tender kiss in response.  
  
“Have I told you how amazing you are?” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Are you recording this right now?" You nodded, both of you enjoying the sweet sound.

Sam’s voice called out just then. "Where are you guys? And what is that sound?”  
  
“In here,” Dean answered him.  
  
Sam walked in a second later, eyes widening with curiosity as he looked at the two of you. “Hey,“ Sam breathed. "What are you - wait, is that the baby’s heartbeat?” Dean gave him a goofy grin in response and Sam came closer, sitting down to listen. “That’s incredible,” he added. “I didn’t know you could do that from home.”  
  
The digital readout on the doppler showed the baby’s heartbeat pick up from 135 to 142 beats per minute and you said, “I think he likes his Uncle Sammy. He knows your voice.”  
  
A huge smile stretched across Sam’s face, and then his mouth dropped open as he fully realized what you’d said. “Wait … it’s a b-”  
  
“It’s a boy!” Dean announced so quickly that Sam barely got the question out first. “Can you believe it?”  
  
Sam laughed, clapping Dean on the back. “Wow. Congrats, guys.” He patted your knee, squeezing gently as his eyes found yours. “You think you can handle a mini version of this guy running around?” He jerked a thumb in Dean’s direction.

You grinned, shaking your head. “I’m going to be so outnumbered around here it’s not even funny.”  
  
“It’s not funny, it’s awesome,” Dean stated. “Don’t get me wrong,” he added. “I would have loved having a little girl, too.”  
  
You gave him a nod, acknowledging the sweet gesture. You knew he truly meant it.  
  
The three of you sat in silence for a long moment, taking in the beautiful sound of the baby’s heart beating.  
  
“It’s so fast,” Sam observed, grinning.  
  
“That’s my boy,” Dean said proudly. “He gets that from me.” You were pretty sure he was only half joking, and he smiled when you laughed.  
  
“Oh, and the pictures are in my purse,” you told Dean, gesturing with a nod.  
  


He reached for it, pulling them out and handing them to Sam. “You gotta see these, man.” Sam shuffled through the ultrasound pictures, a grin on his face as he gazed at each one. “He’s the size of a bell pepper now,” Dean said.

  
Sam grinned. “I know. I read the little printouts you put on the fridge each week.”  
  
“Look,” Dean added, pointing when he got to one of the pictures in particular. “Proof right there. That’s his tiny little junk.”

“Yeah, well, I gathered as much,” Sam said with a chuckle.  
  
“Don’t worry, buddy” Dean said, leaning in forward close to your stomach to speak directly to the baby. “I promise it’ll grow.” A laugh burst out of you and Dean gave you a pointed look. “Don’t mind Mommy,” he added. “She’s hormonal." 

You smacked his shoulder with your free hand, trying to catch your breath still from laughing, and he gave you an innocent smile in return. 

Please consider supporting my writing by [buying me a coffee.](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fko-fi.com%2Fmuchamused&t=NmY4YmE2MGQ2MmQ5ZTc1NTFjY2ZhMDUwOGY4ZjYwYjFiNWRlMjBmOSxyeFk2cWRuWQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AQo5-YbXswGWjbyLDWCWv2A&p=https%3A%2F%2Fmuchamusedaboutnothing.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F623440180610826240%2Fheart-of-a-hunter-act-v-ch-29&m=1&ts=1599863773) In my case, it’s Dr. Pepper, but a little caffeine goes a long way when it comes to writing and posting this labor of love.


	10. Chapter 10

You’d just finished blow drying your hair after a shower one evening and were getting dressed in the bedroom when Dean burst into the room. The smile on his face was infectious, even before you knew the cause of it.

“Hey honey,” you said, grinning at him as you pulled a t-shirt over your head. “What’s going on? Did one of your scratch off tickets finally pay off?”

Dean’s smile faltered for the briefest second and he looked at you in mild confusion before he recovered. 

“What? No. I just - I was thinking about cowboys.”

You couldn’t help smiling curiously as you gazed up at him. “Okay, um … are we talking the kind on a football field, or the ones on horseback?”

Dean took a step toward you eagerly. “Cowboys,” he reiterated. “Come on, sweetheart. Real life Butch Cassidy, Billy the Kid, Texas Jack, Slim Whitaker, John Wayne-type cowboys.”

You blinked, smiling sweetly at him. “John Wayne was an act-”

“John Wayne was a _cowboy_ ,” he interrupted before you could finish, leaving little room for debate.

“Okay then,” you conceded, taking one of his hands in yours and casually playing with his fingers. “What specifically has you so excited about cowboys right now?”

“Well … “ He rocked back on his heels a little, suddenly looking like he couldn’t explain himself. “We’re having a boy.” You raised an eyebrow at him in anticipation. “I just thought maybe … I mean, we have to -” He sighed in frustration and gathered your hand in both of his, mouth going soft and eyes locked on yours in an almost pleading gesture. “Have you thought at all about how we might decorate his room?”

“We only just found out he’s a he,” you said gently. “I’ve had passing thoughts on and off, but I haven’t really had time to plan since the ultrasound.”

Dean nodded, face growing serious. “Yeah, sure. Of course.”

You freed your hand from his grasp and slid it to rest against his chest. “Dean, honey?”

“Hmm?”

“Would you like to give our little buckaroo a good old fashioned cowboy room?”

A breath escaped his lips like he hadn’t realized he’d been holding it, and the brilliant smile he’d worn while bursting into the room was instantly back in place. “You mean it?”

You smiled to match his. “Absolutely.”

Dean barely let the word leave your lips before his met yours in a tender kiss. It was filled with all the hopes and childhood dreams he’d never seen come to fruition. And you loved him all the more for it.

When he pulled back again it was to stare at you unabashedly, hope shining in those green eyes. “Have I told you today you’re the most amazing woman on the planet?”

“You have now.” You leaned in for another quick kiss and he wrapped his arms around you to hug you close. You breathed in the scent of him, cherished the soft flannel of his shirt against your cheek, and reveled in the fact that you were also the luckiest. “Should we grab the laptop and go see what we can find online?”

Dean kissed the top of your head. “This is gonna be awesome.”

“Honey, look at this crib,” you told Dean, pointing to the laptop screen at a gorgeous rustic wooden crib.

He leaned in to examine it closer. “That looks cowboy enough, right?” he offered, his voice lilting up a little at the end.

“More than enough,” you said as you imagined your unborn baby one day napping inside it. “It’s handmade,” you gushed, sounding more and more like a girly girl the longer you shopped.

“And it converts to a toddler bed when he’s older,” Dean read out loud, still scanning the detailed description on the screen. “That’s it,” he agreed. “That’s the one.”

You added it to the shopping cart where you and Dean had already added a rug, a rocking chair, and a few plaid baby outfits you just couldn’t resist when you saw them.

“What makes you think he’s going to want to have cowboy stuff in his room by the time he’s a toddler?” Sam said in an effort to get a rise out of Dean. He sat in front of his own laptop across the table in the library while you shopped.

Never one to disappoint, Dean gave him a pointed glare. “Um, because he’s going to be awesome. Chip off the ol’ block just like his old man.”

“Well, at least you’re finally admitting your age,” Sam said with a low chuckle.

You entered in your card information and completed the purchase, leaning back and gripping Dean’s hand with your own in delight.

“We just bought a crib,” Dean said with a smile that made his dimples pop. 

“We just bought a crib,” you echoed, leaning in to kiss his stubbled cheek. “Now we just have to figure out how to put it together when it gets here.”

Dean pulled you in closer against his side, squeezing you gently. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll handle it.”

“What he means by that,” Sam cut in, “is that he’ll make me read the instructions while he ignores me and does it all wrong.”

“Well, the two of you have about four months to figure it out,” you said with a laugh as Dean shrugged.

You’d just gotten comfortable on the couch with a blanket and a cup of herbal tea when Sam joined you. He carefully lifted your feet to make room for himself next to you on the couch, putting them down on his lap once he was comfortable. 

“How ya doin, Brawny?” you asked, taking a sip of your tea and glancing at the book he’d brought with him. “Is that the first Harry Potter book you have there?”

Sam smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, it is. Actually, I was reading last night about how babies in the womb begin to hear sounds after 16 weeks. Since you’re 19 weeks along now, and he’s able to hear some of what’s going on around here, I - I thought maybe I could read to him … if you don’t mind?”

You felt warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the tea. “Sam,” you said with a sweet smile. “I love that idea. Story time it is….”

“Yeah?” he raised an eyebrow, hope shining in his eyes.

“Please,” you insisted. You took another sip of your tea and watched Sam run a hand through his hair and open up the cover of the book to the first page. He cleared his throat and began reading aloud.

You hid your smiles with sips of herbal tea, partially to keep Sam from feeling self conscious about his idea, but the truth was that Sam’s desire to read to the baby was so endearing, and precious, and you just didn’t even have the words to tell him what it meant to you.

Story time would become a nightly tradition after that, at least those nights that Sam and Dean weren’t off working a case. Dean even joined in on most occasions, coming in to sit with you, and even though he often brought a reloading manual or magazine in with him and pretended to peruse the pages, he interrupted far too often to ask questions or comment for you to believe he wasn’t actively hanging on every word Sam read. 

“’I checked this out weeks ago for a bit of light reading,’” Sam read aloud one night. 

“Light reading?” Dean cut in. “Sweetheart, she’s you.” He raised an accusing eyebrow and gazed at you adoringly. “Hermione is _you_.”

“I’m flattered by the comparison,” you said with a soft laugh. 

Dean just shook his head softly. “Sheesh, no wonder you two love this stuff. Nerds all around.”

And it went on like that, with you and Sam occasionally pausing to discuss things like the meaning of Harry’s dream, or to share amused glances when Dean interjected with things like, “Man, that Snape’s a hard ass.”

Some nights the reading was a little more practical in the form of research. Harry Potter and lighter books were put aside on evenings when a case called for your immediate attention, but carrying on with story time - whatever the subject material - kept your new little family tradition alive. 

Please consider supporting my writing by [buying me a coffee.](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fko-fi.com%2Fmuchamused&t=NmY4YmE2MGQ2MmQ5ZTc1NTFjY2ZhMDUwOGY4ZjYwYjFiNWRlMjBmOSxyeFk2cWRuWQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AQo5-YbXswGWjbyLDWCWv2A&p=https%3A%2F%2Fmuchamusedaboutnothing.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F623440180610826240%2Fheart-of-a-hunter-act-v-ch-29&m=1&ts=1599863773) In my case, it’s Dr. Pepper, but a little caffeine goes a long way when it comes to writing and posting this labor of love.


	11. Chapter 11

It was another case. Another long drive. A jarring reminder that Baby’s leather seats, which had once been a place of peace and comfort, were now a source of sciatic pain and awkward wiggling around trying to get comfortable in spite of your growing belly.

Sensing your discomfort, Sam piped up, looking over his shoulder at you and saying, “It’s not too late to sit up front. We can pull over. I want you to be comfortable.”

“The front seat is no better,” you said to him, patting his shoulder in thanks. “No reason to have your long legs crammed in the space back here if trading places doesn’t change things for me.”

“It would make me feel better,” Sam offered half-heartedly. 

“Well, that would make one of us,” you teased. “Seriously though. I’ll be fine. This is what I signed up for by tagging along. Don’t worry about me.”

“Not wired to just not worry,” Dean added just as the tape in the deck finished. “Any requests, sweetheart? Something to take your mind off it?“

You bit your lip in contemplation. “Skynyrd.”

“You got it,” Dean said, but it was Sam who pulled out the tapes and selected the right one to make the switch.

You were all of one minute into Skynyrd’s Poison Whiskey when a jarring motion startled you and made you sit up and pay attention. The baby had been moving and kicking for weeks now, but nothing so jarring until now. Another kick followed thirty seconds later, this one making you gasp with the force of it.

“What’s wrong?” Dean’s eyes were on you through the rearview mirror, concern in his voice as Sam turned around to gaze at you for the same reason. 

“Nothing,” you said with a laugh that burst out of you. “It’s just the baby is kicking really hard.”

Dean’s eyes grew wide now, his voice lending to fascination when he spoke again. “Wait, seriously?”

“Pull over and see for yourself.”

Dean only hesitated for a second before he pulled onto the shoulder of the road and parked.

He threw open his door, hurried to the back and slid in next to you on the leather seat.

You took his hand in yours, sliding it to the side of your little baby bump where just a moment ago you’d felt two significant kicks. You held your hand on top of his, smiling at Sam who had twisted at the waist to watch from the passenger seat.

Dean waited with you, his eyes wide with anticipation, mouth soft and hopeful. When the jarring motion came again, Dean’s jaw dropped in surprise. Your laugh was as much a result of the look on his face as anything. 

Dean grinned at you before turning his smile on Sam, his hand never leaving your stomach. When another kick came he chuckled, followed by a soft, “Holy shit.”

"He’s getting stronger,” you mused.

When the kicking subsided a few minutes later, you hit the road again. And Dean wasn’t the only one singing along a little more enthusiastically to the music after that.

Eventually you made it to the room after grabbing dinner at a little truck stop diner just outside of town.

“I’m going to hop in the shower,” Dean stated as he grabbed a change of clothes from his bag. “Anyone need to pee first?”

“Haha,” you said with a smirk as he grinned and headed for the bathroom. 

You slid Dean’s duffle out of the way and sat down on the bed, leaning up against the pillows and the headboard.

Sam tossed you the remote for the TV and you patted the spot next to you on the bed since yours was directly in front of it. He plopped down next to you, stretching out his long legs in front and leaning back against the headboard as you flipped through the channels. You leaned your head against Sam’s shoulder, eyes glued to the screen as you enjoyed the feel of your spine slowly decompressing after a long day of driving.

Baby Winchester chose that moment to launch another assault, your surprise marked by a sharp intake of breath as you moved your hand to your stomach.

Sam tore his eyes away from the show to gaze at you in concern. “You okay?” You nodded, feeling the strange sensation of the baby’s foot or knee moving along the inside of your stomach. “Baby at it again?”

You chuckled. “You could say that.” You grabbed Sam’s hand, pressing his palm to your stomach and holding it there in anticipation of another kick.

“This baby runs on Winchester time already,” you told him. “Likes to get wound up at this time of night, like a second wind or something.”

Sam’s eyes flickered from your stomach to your face and back. It was only half a minute later that a little jab from a foot bumped his palm. Sam’s eyes widened in shock, and he let out a breath you hadn’t realized he was holding. You giggled at his reaction, seeing the delight on his face. 

“That’s - that’s incredible,” he said. Another kick made him laugh, and you joined in. 

“He knows your voice from all the story times,” you told him. “Putting on a show for Uncle Sammy now.”

Sam was grinning, obviously hoping for another kick as Dean opened the bathroom door and walked out in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt.

“My boy burning the midnight oil?” Dean asked as he saw you sitting together, hands on your tummy. 

“Always,” you said with a smile as he came to sit on your other side, barely managing to fit on the bed but determined to join in. The baby kicked again as Dean got settled at your side.

Sam shook his head, a disbelieving smile etched into his features. “I’ve never felt a baby like this.”

“Pretty awesome, huh?” Dean said as Sam moved his hand away to give Dean a turn.

“You know, I remember doing this with Mom when she was pregnant with you,” Dean told Sam as he lightly pressed his palm to your stomach. 

Sam’s mouth opened in genuine surprise, and it took him a second to respond. “You do?”

“Sure,” Dean said. “Course, what I remember of it, Mom was way more pregnant than this. I mean, like ready to pop, but yeah. I remember you kicking my hand just like-”

The baby kicked again then, causing Dean’s words to falter and his lips to turn up in a proud smile. “Just like that.”

You smiled, turning your head to kiss Dean’s cheek. He responded by returning the gesture, and you leaned your head on his shoulder in content. The baby kicked every minute or so, apparently wide awake and ensuring that you wouldn’t be getting any sleep until he settled down anyway. So the three of you enjoyed feeling him move around while he was excited and wiggly.

At one point Dean put a hand on the right side of your stomach, and Sam did the same on the left, and the two of them talked to the baby, trying to coax him into kicking their way and making a competition of it. 

You giggled at their antics, saying, “God, and I think I’m outnumbered now.”

It was a good twenty minutes before the baby settled down, presumably going to sleep after having worn himself out by making a jungle gym of your rib cage. 

“You need to get some sleep,” Dean said to you as Sam moved to his own bed. 

You were in the middle of a yawn, but nodded in agreement, clicking the TV off with the remote. You slid into the covers and snuggled down deep, facing Dean as he climbed in next to you. Sam double checked the door was locked and turned off the light.

The mattress left something to be desired, but you hadn’t expected differently. And honestly, these days it was nearly impossible to actually get comfortable at night. But your whole family was here together and happy, and that was enough to make you fall asleep with a soft smile on your face. 

Dean stayed up a little longer, watching you sleep with wholehearted adoration. His mind was racing a mile a minute, bouncing between wanting to pinch himself for being so goddamn lucky, and the very real sacred responsibility that came with having his little family grow by one more member and wanting to be sure he did right by you and this baby in every sense … in all the ways a man could do. All the ways a husband - a father - could do. 

Eventually sleep pulled him under, too.

He dreamed that night about taking your son - a toddler in the dream - to visit his own father’s headstone. The four of you had gone together. No flowers were set on the grave, but he and Sam did leave a shot of John’s favorite whiskey on the stone for him, knocking back a shot themselves. 

It would take Dean a few weeks to stop thinking about the dream every day. Of course John didn’t have a headstone. Hunters didn’t get those. And Dean didn’t mention the dream to anyone. He reasoned that his own impending fatherhood had his subconscious wanting to make family ties in ways he couldn’t actually do.

And of course it saddened him that his son didn’t have grandparents around. He’d never know John and Mary, or your parents - for that matter. At the same time, Dean was such a different man now than he had been when his father was alive, it was almost impossible to imagine a scenario in which John was still around. Dean had mixed emotions about that, as well. About the fact that he couldn’t reconcile the idea of it in any concrete way in his mind.

But mostly, he just didn’t want that same burden to fall on his own son.

Please consider supporting my writing by [buying me a coffee.](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fko-fi.com%2Fmuchamused&t=NmY4YmE2MGQ2MmQ5ZTc1NTFjY2ZhMDUwOGY4ZjYwYjFiNWRlMjBmOSxyeFk2cWRuWQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AQo5-YbXswGWjbyLDWCWv2A&p=https%3A%2F%2Fmuchamusedaboutnothing.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F623440180610826240%2Fheart-of-a-hunter-act-v-ch-29&m=1&ts=1599863773) In my case, it’s Dr. Pepper, but a little caffeine goes a long way when it comes to writing and posting this labor of love.


	12. Chapter 12

**  
**The case you’d worked with the boys had taken a week in total, and then you were back home in the bunker, overall no worse for the wear. The next day you’d realized you were a little short in the way of groceries after having all been gone for that many days, and while the eggs had stayed good, giving you enough to make ham and cheese omelets for breakfast, lunch had consisted of frozen pizza for lack of a better option, prompting a grocery run right after. **  
**

You and Sam had just returned from the trip to town and were finishing putting the groceries away in the Mess Hall when the sound of Dean’s voice echoed through the halls of the bunker. 

“Damn it. This is not going to work. I - I don’t even know why I …”

You looked up at Sam, who shrugged, cocking his head to listen better. Dean’s mystery rant continued, but it was a little quieter and harder to understand as you both stood there in confusion.

“What’s he up to?” you wondered out loud.

Sam chuckled softly. “God, do we really want to know?”

You put away the milk and closed the fridge, heading for the hall and hearing Sam’s footsteps right behind you as you went.

Dean was still muttering to himself when the two of you reached the library to find him leaning over a table, a white leaflet of some kind in his hand and a couple of boxes from Amazon sitting on the table. He’d already opened one, but set aside the papers he was holding to slice the second one open with a wisp of his knife along the seam of tape.  
  
“What are you doing?” Sam asked. 

Dean looked over his shoulder to find you both there watching him. “Baby proofing,” he answered, holding up a pack of little plastic outlet inserts. “I was going to anchor all the bookcases to the walls, but … ” He looked from one side of the library to the other, walked decisively to a bookcase and pulled a book from the second shelf. “What’s the point?” he continued, turning to face you and Sam dramatically. “This book weighs a freaking ton. Why bother securing the furniture if a book can just fall on him and-”

You smiled at him. “Dean, honey, you’re spiraling.”

Dean threw his hands in the air, exasperated as he looked at you. “How in the hell are we supposed to raise a baby in this place?”

“This is a Men of Letters Bunker,” you said slowly. “It’s literally one of the safest places we could raise a baby.”

Sam couldn’t resist the smile that spread across his face. Dean just rolled his eyes, apparently unamused and unconvinced by your logic.

You took a step forward, placing a gentle hand on his arm and squeezing. “I love that you’re concerned and planning this out, and you’ve obviously put some thought into this.” You took a second to scan the supplies still sitting in the nearest box. “But any home has to undergo some baby proofing, and it’s nothing we can’t handle. I’m only 23 weeks along. There’s still time.”

But he’d already moved on to being distracted by the sword sitting on the shelf to his left. “Why the hell are there so many sharp objects around here, anyway?”

You and Sam shared a glance and you shrugged and mouthed, “I got nothing.”

“Hey,” Sam said, stepping up to take the sword from Dean’s hands before he could use his finger to test how sharp the blade was. “What do you say I take over baby proofing?”

Dean furrowed his brow at Sam. “You? Baby proofing?”

Sam squared his shoulders toward his brother. “Yeah. Why not? It’s something I can do to contribute, you know?”

Dean just frowned at him, not convinced. “What do you know about babies?”

“I can read instructions,” Sam said smugly as he picked up the stapled booklet sitting near the pile of outlet inserts, plastic corner bumpers, and magnetic cabinet locks. ‘I’m on it. Seriously.”

But Dean’s brow just furrowed deeper. You reached for him, touching his arm. “Come on, honey. I have a favor to ask you anyway.”

Dean was reluctant to go, but he did let you lead him toward the garage. “Are we leaving?” he asked as you climbed the stairs together.

“Going for a ride. I think we both need some fresh air.”

You could have been imagining the way his chest rose and fell with a deep breath as he opened the passenger door for you to climb in the car, but you suspected he was happy to have an out as he got in and started the engine.

Aside from the radio, which Dean didn’t turn up too loud, the drive was mostly quiet. He didn’t ask where to, and you didn’t have a preference. 

Half an hour later he’d pulled the car over by the river and helped you up onto the hood to sit before getting comfortable next to you. 

The two of you sat like that for a few minutes, his fingers laced in yours, before he let out a deep and weighted breath, saying, “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

You gazed at him. “In my experience, Winchester, that’s rarely the case when it matters.”

“I mean it.” He chewed his bottom lip for a second, and then he got to his feet and paced a ways away. “I loved my dad. And I always knew what he did was hard, taking Sammy and me out on the road. He taught us how to survive, and I owe him everything for that, but growing up like we did, that was no way to live. Not for a kid.” He turned to look at you again. “How the hell did your mom and dad do it?”

“One day at a time, I suspect.”

He nodded and came to stand next to the car in front of you, but his gaze was faraway again. “I wish I could have known them. I don’t know how they did it, but they raised a daughter who grew up to be a brilliant doctor and a hunter. And a son who was a hell of a hunter, skilled enough to go at it alone for years. I just - I wish I knew the secret.”

You shrugged. “John Winchester’s boys grew up to be legends among the hunting community, monsters’ worst nightmares,” you said, watching his expression for a reaction. “And you can roll your eyes at that statement, Winchester, but modesty doesn’t make it any less true.” 

Dean kicked a rock with the toe of his boot, and he still wouldn’t meet your eyes, so you continued on. 

“John’s youngest was pre-law at Stanford, despite never having lived a picket-fence life. He’s compassionate, skilled with languages and computers. And his oldest? Well, that boy grew up to be the bravest and most selfless man I’ve ever met. A man who puts everyone else’s needs above his own. A man who is smart and resourceful, strong and athletic. 

“A natural born leader who’s quick on his feet and even quicker on the draw…. And I have it on good authority from Sam Winchester’s mouth himself that his big brother Dean was about the best damn father a kid could ask for. Coming from the one you already raised, I think he’d know.”

Dean turned to face you then, stepping up between your knees and placing his hands gently on either side of your growing belly. “How do I teach our son to throw a baseball one minute, and draw banishing sigils the next?” he asked, green eyes locked on yours. “How am I supposed to walk that line, huh? Because he’s going to have to know how to stay safe in this world. And that’s hard enough to do when your parents don’t pick fights with monsters. But I want him to get to be a kid, too, you know? I never had that.”

“You’re right,” you said with a shrug. “It would be a disservice to lie to our son about the dangers we face as hunters. But there will be age-appropriate ways of preparing him as he grows. We’ll teach him how to paint the fence long before he chooses to step on the mat.” Dean couldn’t help but smile at your Karate Kid reference. “And when he’s old enough, he’ll make that decision for himself. And we’ll love him and support him no matter what he chooses to do with his life, hunting or no.”

You cupped Dean’s face with your hand and he closed his eyes briefly and swallowed hard. “I’ll tell you something else, Winchester. I’ll be one proud mama if our son grows up to be half the man his Daddy or his Uncle Sammy is.”

Dean brushed a rogue strand of hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear before he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours in a tender kiss. When he pulled back, he leaned his forehead against yours, a smile tugging at his lips before he said, “Sweetheart, I hope he takes after you.”

“You’re good, Winchester,” you teased. “But let’s not pretend you could handle two of me.”

Dean chuckled and kissed you again, this time smiling against your mouth.

Please consider supporting my writing by [buying me a coffee.](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fko-fi.com%2Fmuchamused&t=NmY4YmE2MGQ2MmQ5ZTc1NTFjY2ZhMDUwOGY4ZjYwYjFiNWRlMjBmOSxyeFk2cWRuWQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AQo5-YbXswGWjbyLDWCWv2A&p=https%3A%2F%2Fmuchamusedaboutnothing.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F623440180610826240%2Fheart-of-a-hunter-act-v-ch-29&m=1&ts=1599863773) In my case, it’s Dr. Pepper, but a little caffeine goes a long way when it comes to writing and posting this labor of love.


	13. Chapter 13

**  
**You were more than a little relieved when a missing person headline had caught Sam’s attention and you had all agreed the circumstances were suspect enough to warrant a little road trip to check it out. **  
**

You suspected Dean needed a job to clear his head. Even though he’d acted a little more like himself after your heart to heart by the river, you knew nothing could bring Dean perspective and focus like being on a mission to save people.

It had been a seven hour drive in the car, with plenty of potty breaks on the way, but you’d eventually reached your destination and made a quick stop at the local sheriff’s office to see what you could learn. Afterward, you’d checked into a quaint little motel for the night.

Sam had run across the street to the diner to grab some food for all of you. You were tossing the little automatic wrist blood pressure cuff back in your bag with frustration as Dean came back inside from retrieving the laptop from the car.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Batteries are dead in it,” you said with a sigh. “It’s almost impossible to take my own blood pressure with a real cuff and get an accurate reading, but that’s all I have.”

“I can do it,” Dean said matter-of-factly. Your smile didn’t Segway into a snarky comment, but only just in time because you realized he was seriously offering. “Don’t look so surprised, sweetheart. I pay attention and I’m a quick study. You know that.”

“Yeah, you are,” you said, nodding and finding nothing but love and understanding in those green of his eyes. “Actually, that would be great. Thank you.”

“Of course,” Dean said. “I know you’ve been diligently tracking it through the pregnancy, and I’m not always around to help, but I’m here now, so let me help.”

You knew that just another set of hands would allow you to take the measurements yourself, but Dean was genuinely interested in learning. He’d used the automatic ones back home on numerous occasions, but you couldn’t remember ever teaching him how to take a proper blood pressure before.

“The sphygmomanometer is in the med kit in the trunk.”

Dean nodded. He turned to go, hesitating just long enough to add, “I’m not going to have to spell that to pass the test, am I?”

You grinned as he shot you a playful wink before leaving the motel room. When Dean returned a moment later he had your blood pressure cuff in hand and your stethoscope slung around his neck. 

“Can you believe I’ll be in my third trimester in just two days?” you said as he came to sit next to you on the bed.

“We’re in the home stretch, sweetheart.”

“‘Stretch’ being the operative word here,” you said with a soft laugh as you put your hands on your growing belly. 

Dean smiled as he opened the cuff and wrapped it snugly around your bicep, securing the velcro in place. 

He pulled the stethoscope from his neck and put the tips in his ears, bringing the diaphragm to rest on the inside of your elbow and tucking it just below the cuff right over your brachial artery. 

You were already impressed as you watched him maneuver with what almost looked like practiced ease. “Hot damn, Winchester. I do love a man that pays attention.”

Dean smirked a little then as he reached for the little rubber bulb, gripping it in his palm to begin inflating the cuff. Two pumps in and he realized the end valve wasn’t tight, pausing briefly to correct that with a spin of his fingers. Then he began inflating again, his eyes trained on the gauge. 

He stopped inflating at about 200 and repositioned the bulb in his palm with a little shake, turning the valve just slightly to begin releasing air from the cuff. You watched as the needle in the gauge began its descent, and started bouncing just the tiniest bit with your pulse. 

Dean’s focus was singular, and once the needle reached the 60s he looked up at you, saying, “Heard the first thump at 118. Heard the last one at 80.”

You couldn’t help the smile that lit up your face just then. “Dean Winchester, you’ve been holding out on me!”

“I haven’t been holding out,” he said with a chuckle, taking the ear tips out and returning the stethoscope to his neck. 

“I thought I was going to have to teach you. But you managed just fine on your own.”

“You apparently don’t appreciate the scope of my skill set in this relationship,” he teased. You grinned as he peeled the velcro free and released the cuff from your arm. “You know what the real reason is,” he began, tilting your chin up with a finger so that your eyes met his. “You’re just terrible at asking for help when you need it, sweetheart. You always have been.”

You gave a little one-shouldered shrug. “Maybe.”

“Ain’t no maybe about it,” he said. “You’re superwoman, and I appreciate that. I do. But sometimes you’ve gotta let-”

The rest of Dean’s sentence was swallowed up in a kiss when you pulled him close by the stethoscope still slung around his neck and pressed your mouth to his. He responded by kissing you back, soft and slow and deep.

“Thank you,” you said when you pulled back. 

Dean leaned his forehead against yours, hand coming up to brush his thumb along your cheek. “Anytime, Doc.” He gathered the cuff and placed it on the nightstand. “So, 118 over 80. Is that normal at this point in pregnancy?”

“Sure is,” you assured him. “Around the third trimester a pregnant woman has right around a full pint of extra blood pumping through her system to nourish the baby. Blood pressure naturally goes up a little at that stage, but having it go too high would be reason for concern. Everything checks out okay so far, but that’s why I’m keeping track.”

“Beautiful and brilliant,” Dean said, coming to lay down on the bed alongside you, propping himself up with one elbow and realizing he’d forgotten to take the stethoscope from around his neck. “Oops.”

“Here,” you said, holding out a hand to him. “I want to try something anyway.” He handed it over and you put the tips in your ears, sliding up the fabric of your shirt to uncover your belly. 

You saw Dean’s expression change from mild curiosity to hopeful excitement as he watched you use one hand to feel around on your stomach, trying to locate the smooth flat surface that would indicate the baby’s back. 

“Don’t get your hopes up too high,” you said to him as you did so. “It’s hard to hear a baby’s heartbeat with a stethoscope at this stage, but it is possible. It’s just that I’ve tried a couple of times with no luck….”

You pressed down on your tummy, quite certain you’d found the spot you wanted, and Dean watched in eager silence as you held the bell there, listening intently. At first you could only hear the dull echo of your own heartbeat in the background, but you slid the bell over just a bit and that’s when you heard it. The quickened little heartbeat you’d only ever enjoyed on doppler before now.

Dean knew by the look on your face. “You found it?” he asked.

You nodded, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, enjoying the beautiful sound. Then you opened your eyes and gazed at him, smiling so hard your face would hurt if you kept it up. “I’m going to hold real still so he doesn’t move around, but if you can take the ear pieces and put them on real quick….”

That was all the prompting Dean needed. He carefully did as you suggested, putting the earpieces on while you held the bell in place. 

Dean’s expression was wonder and awe and love in its purest form as he listened to the rapid little flutter of a heartbeat. 

If hearing the sound yourself hadn’t been breathtaking enough, watching him experience it brought moisture to your eyes. 

Dean was apparently having the same problem, using a thumb and finger to wipe at his eyes after a moment of listening. He took the stethoscope off and put it back on you for you to enjoy again. Then he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your tummy, pouring his heart and soul into the gesture. 

The atmosphere in that cheap little motel room couldn’t have been more full of gratitude and hope and unity than it was right then. 

And when Sam let himself in the room a moment later, it was obvious the waves of it were palpable, causing him to stop like he’d hit a wall.

“Sammy,” Dean said just above a whisper, though you weren’t sure why he was whispering exactly. “Come here. Hurry.” Dean waved Sam over, still wiping at his eyes.

Looking more than a little confused, Sam followed his instructions and quickly set down the takeout on the table before coming to lower himself on the edge of the bed next to Dean. You nodded at Dean and he removed the stethoscope ear pieces from your ears again, this time handing it to Sam.

Sam frowned a little as he put the instrument on, his eyes going wide at what he was hearing.

“My god,” he whispered. “That’s … ” But he didn’t finish the statement, at a loss for words at the beautiful sound.

You simply nodded in agreement, and Sam listened in silence for a few seconds before the baby did a little twist, accompanied by a kick, and the sound was lost.

“Guess I had great timing, huh?” Sam said with a grin as he took the stethoscope back off and set it next to you on the bed. 

“You did indeed,” you said as you pulled your shirt back down to cover your belly. “I’ve been trying to do that for over a week with no luck.”

Dean sat back a little, a look of euphoria still lacing his features.

You reached over to squeeze his hand, drawing his gaze to you. “You okay, Winchester?”

His smile was soft and genuine, and his eyes were brighter for it. “Never better, sweetheart.”

“Who’s hungry?” Sam asked as he carried over some take out containers.

“I’m starving,” you admitted, accepting one as he handed it to you.

The three of you ate dinner together, musing about how less than six months ago you’d been holed up in a motel room not unlike this one with such severe morning sickness you’d suspected food poisoning. 

After dinner, Sam opened up the copy of the file the Sheriff had given you regarding the mysterious deaths happening in the area. 

You gestured to the spot next to you on the bed and said, “Story time?”

Sam chuckled at that. “Chapter / Victim number one,” he said dramatically. “The missing shop owner.”

“Wait,” Dean piped in, “before you start, where’s your handgun?”

“I just stuck it in my bag.” Sam pointed across the room. “Why?”

“I’m going to run a bore snake through mine while you read the case report to us. Might as well clean ‘em all while I’m at it.”

Sam got comfortable next to you and opened up the file. Dean retrieved his and Sam’s handguns, along with yours, and sat down at the small table, listening intently as Sam read from the Sheriff’s report out loud.

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End file.
